


The Art of Secrecy

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And all of her friends, F/M, Modern AU, Muggle AU, Professor Tom Riddle, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tomione Day, University Student Hermione, so much fucking smut man, this is so fucking explicit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-05-15 08:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14787069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: It had been the perfect one night stand until she, literally, fell face first at his feet and discovered he was her professor. [HIATUS.] [NOT ABANDONED.]





	1. A One Night Stand to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write Tomione since I'd been reading it for a while. This COULD HAVE been a oneshot, an extremely filthy one shot, but no, I had to write a full length background. And here I fucking am, making a new WIP for a new ship. 
> 
> Thanks you's for Arendora, who literally talked to me until I had some sort of plot for this beyond smut. It wouldn't have come through without her.
> 
> And for weestarmeggie17 for getting me on board with this ship. I don't actually remember how this friendship started, but she's supportive and and alpha'd/beta'd this. Which if you have ever edited for me, you know is a nightmare. 
> 
> As per usual, I don't know how to work AO3, so if you'd like to see the aesthetic, which is super NSFW, you can see it on my tumblr, mrsren96

The pulsing lights of the club were luring the patrons scattered throughout the room, some lounging against the bar, some dancing when they were barely able to stay on their feet. She noted a girl who was giggling loudly, laying on a table while her boyfriend -or she hoped it was her boyfriend- licked alcohol from her bellybutton.

 

“Get that frown off of your face. You look unapproachable.” Ginny harped, leading her to the bar with one arm looped through hers. 

 

“Fantastic.” Hermione drawled, taking a seat on one of the barstools. “Considering I never wanted to be here in the first place.” 

 

Ginny rolled her eyes. 

 

“I don’t need a relationship,” she insisted, waving down the landlord. “Two shots please, vodka.” 

 

“Hey, you know I hate that shite. Tequila, please.” 

 

Hermione held her palm up, stopping the short, stocky man that eyed her oddly. “The vodka is for me,” she explained, and he gave a curt nod. “What’s that look for? If I’m going to be here, I’ll need all the liquid courage I can get.” 

 

“We are going to have a bloody fantastic time. I didn’t ask you for a girls’ night so you could find a relationship. You need a one night stand to remove that stick from up your arse.” Ginny sported a grin while Hermione gritted her teeth. 

 

“It’s hardly a girls’ night if you’re trying to get me into bed with a random stranger. Thank you.” she took one of the shot glasses the barman slid to her, cool beneath her touch as she tipped it backward. She winced as the awful tasting liquid slid down her throat. She gagged when she wasn’t able to swallow the shot in one go, half of it lingering in her mouth. 

 

Ginny took her shot as if it were the first she’d ever downed, like she was a teenager who choked and Hermione chuckled at her. “Forgive me, your majesty. Not all of us are so well versed in taking shots.” 

 

Hermione looked away from her, scanning the room. “I don’t particularly need a one night stand either, Ginny. I don’t need a male for my self validation.” 

 

“Of course not, but I’ve seen you after you’ve had a good fucking,” Hermione grimaced, turning to her second shot. “And it’s been almost a year since I’ve seen that look on your face. I know Ron,” 

 

“No.” Hermione hissed, setting the shot glass back on the counter. “Don’t you dare bring his name up if you want me to have a good night.” 

 

She put her hands up, nails perfectly manicured from the appointment she’d set for herself and Hermione earlier that day. “What I mean to say is my brother didn’t appreciate you, and I want to see how happy you are when someone else appreciates you. And plus, you’re a little kinky and he never lived up to those expectations, right?” 

 

“Ginny, has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” 

 

“All the time, of course. Mostly you though. Come on, isn’t there anyone here that catches your eye?” 

 

“As if I would ever tell you.” Hermione laughed at the flash of anger that crossed her closest friend’s face. “Just order some drinks, and we’ll have a good time all on our own.” 

 

“Actually,” she sang, and Hermione groaned. “Harry will be here later, so I’m sure I will be having fun, but it won’t be with you. Ooh, what about that guy,” she pointed across the room, and Hermione’s eyes landed on an attractive brunette who wore a cocky smirk. “Because he’s been watching you since we stepped inside this club.” 

 

He looked vaguely familiar, Hermione thought, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. “Hasn’t Molly ever told you it’s impolite to point?” 

 

“I’m sorry,” she mocked. “Do you see him? He looks like he’s just what you need.” The man arched an eyebrow as Ginny’s words carried over the crowd. “Hermione!” she grabbed her by the arm, causing her to knock over the shot glass the landlord had just brought her. 

 

“Will you stop acting like a child?” She hissed, ripping her arm free. “Yes, he’s attractive. Yes, he’s taken an interest in me, but no that does not mean I will be hopping merrily into his bed.” 

 

Ginny argued adamantly, with the idea that Hermione should go settle into the empty seat beside him and ask if he’d mind buying her a drink. “Say you forgot your wallet.” 

 

“Ginny, my wallet is sitting on the counter.” She deadpanned. “Doesn’t matter, looks like he’s coming to me.” Her friend vanished, vacating the seat with the reassurance that she would wait to observe before calling Harry and bailing on her. “Hello.” she told him, spinning back to face the front of the counter. 

 

“Your friend is staring.” 

 

She laughed, leaning backwards in her seat to see Ginny sitting in the seat he’d left, shooting her a ridiculous thumbs up and wide eyed grin. “Yeah, she does that. I’d just ignore her if I were you. Hermione.” she introduced, extending her hand. 

 

“Tom.” He replied, taking her hand and placing a soft kiss to the back of it. Her lips parted in surprise, indicating her shock at his manners. A small smile settled over her face when he dropped her hand. “What were you drinking?” 

 

“Vodka,” she answered, thinking her voice sounded more breathless than it had moments earlier. It was what Ginny would have called a turning point, and it was what Hermione would have neatly classified as a cliche that belonged in one of the old romance novels that she hid under her bed. “You?” 

 

“The same. May I buy you a drink?” 

 

Her lips quirked up. “Make it several.” He chuckled and something in her stomach twisted deliciously at how dark it sounded. 

 

* * *

  
  


She’d made the executive decision to not drink herself stupid like she might have if Ginny had still been at her side. It was clear where her night was going when she found herself dancing with Tom in the middle of the floor, her back pressed to his front. His hand ghosted against her hips, tugging her backwards when she slipped too far away from him. 

 

“So, your friend left as soon as she spotted you with someone,” he whispered into her ear. 

 

It was definitely the drinks that had her swaying as if she knew what she was doing and grinding into him. “Oh, yes. She must have decided you were enough to give me a good time. She’s rather pushy with the opinion that I need a one night stand to make everything better.” 

 

“And what do you think?” He asked quietly, brushing his lips against the shell of her ear. “You seemed rather against being here in the first place.” 

 

“What do I think? Ginny thinks finding a new man for me is the best way to help me after her brother fucked an ex girlfriend behind my back, in our bed, in our apartment. We had been dating for long enough that it hurt.” She shrugged, his hands coming to massage the knots from her shoulders. “She doesn’t believe that I simply let go.” 

 

“Hmm,” he mused lowly in her ear. “That’s preposterous, you’re hardly the type of woman to hold onto a boyfriend who wasn’t enough for you.” 

 

She laughed, her head falling back against his shoulder while she peered up at him. “You are far too intoxicated to be using words like ‘preposterous’.” Her head rolled to the side, and she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. His fingers gripped her hips. “She’s a great friend. She’s worried about me.” 

 

“Worried that you’re alone?” 

 

Hermione snorted. “Hardly, not in the way you’re thinking of anyway. She is constantly nagging me for getting myself off, rather than finding someone else,” she nipped at his neck. “To take care of me.” 

 

“You’re sloshed,” he told her, pressing himself into her. A whimper slipped out of her at the obvious bulge that settled against the curve of her arse. “Otherwise I doubt you’d have just told me how you get yourself off. Tell me more, would you?” 

 

She was melting, and she knew it. He had her trapped in a neat web, one she’d helped him weave with her not so subtle comments. Tom was intriguing, the way he spoke, the way he kept up with her, and the way he reacted to her acceptance into a grad program. She knew he was intelligent by the way he carried himself. 

 

And that this had ultimately turned into a game of cat and mouse. 

 

“What do you want to know?” She uttered softly. 

 

Tom gripped her hand, twirling her and looping her arms around his neck. “Did you use your fingers, or did you use a toy? Do you finger yourself until you spasm, and come all over them?” 

 

Hermione was trembling against him, looking into dark eyes that gave away what he wanted to do with her, to her, that there was hardly anything stopping him from dipping his fingers beneath the slutty black number -Ginny had bought it- and into her pretty black, lacy knickers. Given her heels, she was able to match his height to whisper in his ear. “Do you want me to tell you, or do you want me to show you?” She challenged, feeling his grip shift to the back of her neck and his fingers grasp strands of her hair. 

 

* * *

  
  


He’d picked her up easily when she stumbled on the stairs leading to his flat, chuckling in her ear as her dress slid up. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, cupping his jaw with one hand while she tugged on soft, brown hair. Her mouth slanted against his. She kissed him thoroughly, slowly at first, almost tentatively until her back was slammed against the door of his flat. 

 

A door opened, a nosy neighbor peeking out to see who exactly the soft whimpers belonged to. Tom unlocked his door too easily, she thought, and doubled her efforts to fluster him with a smirk. 

 

He kicked the bottom of the door open, the door knob connecting with the door stop and he locked it behind him. “Christ,” she murmured as he yanked on her hair, her head falling back while he nipped the skin of her neck. 

 

There was the recurring thought that Ginny was going to die whenever she found out she’d actually gone home with the hot, older man from the club. If she told her that is. Hermione thought she might like to keep this night a secret as she was sure Tom was the kind of man who would show her everything she wanted to try and more. Unlike her previous boyfriend-, 

 

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmured against her skin, carrying her through his flat and into a bedroom. “Come back to me, love.” Tom’s voice was low, hot against her ear as his lips skimmed her neck. 

 

And though she was blissfully drunk, but still coherent, she was brave enough to sink to her knees when he set her down. With a grin she undid his belt, the button on his trousers and pulled them down with his boxers. Her eyes widened a fraction and she turned her head so he won’t see her cheeks heat up. 

 

His cock was, if she were forced to compare, the same length as her ex boyfriends, but thicker than she’d ever had.  _ This night cannot go on long enough _ she idly thought _.  _ He swept her into his arms, and her dress bunched around her waist, exposing her thong. 

 

“No,” he told her, taking hold of her hair, just how she liked, and pulled her up to look at him. “I want you in front of the mirror so I can see your arse when I like.” A whimper slipped between her lips as he walked backwards towards the bed, guiding her by her hair while she crawled on her knees, and her knickers dampened impossibly more. He tilted his head to the side, a feral look in his eye. “Actually,” he began softly. “Would you slip the dress off?” 

 

Hermione nodded and leaned against his lap while he reached down her back to unzip her dress. Her eyes flicked to his cock, resting against his leg and right in front of her lips. Her tongue slid against the tip, her plump lips wrapping around it. 

 

He groaned above her, and her dress tore. “Look what you’ve done,” he mused. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I’ll give you something to wear.” Tom ripped her dress further, forgetting the zipper and she gasped. He took the opportunity to thrust into her mouth,  his fingers sliding along her spine. The tip hit the back of her throat before he pulled her away from him. 

 

He reached out to trace her pouty bottom lip with his thumb. “Take your knickers off, Hermione.” Her name was a low rumble from the back of his throat, a smile toying at his lips. His eyes flicked down to her bare chest, the dress had been tight enough to hold her breasts in, not to mention pushing them up. “So pretty.” he cooed, brushing a finger across the tight bud, watching it harden. 

 

It was difficult for hermione to say if her legs shook because she was so intoxicated, or if it was because of the sexual power this man held over her. Her fingers hooked into the sides of her knickers, and she slowly slid them down in front of him. “On your knees for me?” He asked, but his eyes give away that it wasan order. “Legs spread, I want to see your cunt.” 

 

She moaned softly, dropping to the floor and parting her legs to expose herself. “Fuck,” she gasped as he took hold of her hair once more. She peeked up at him in an effort to memorize the hard line of his jaw, the way he was looking down at her. She licked the underside of his cock, dragging her tongue against his flesh. 

 

Her eyes fluttered shut as she wrapped her lips around it once more. She slipped her hand around the bottom of his shaft, pumping as she worked to take him in her mouth. Muffled moans slipped from her lips while she sucked him, but a tugging at her hair brought her attention back to him. 

 

She nodded, letting her hand fall away from him -letting him take control. He thrust into her mouth once more, grinning wickedly when she gagged as he hit the back of her throat. “You are perfect,” he told her, his soft voice a contrast from the way he fucked her throat. “Do you like it rough, Hermione?” 

 

It was all she could do to moan as his grip on her hair tightened, tilting her head back while he stood. Her eyes watered, as she managed to deep throat him. He pulled away, and she whined in disappointment. “If you keep sucking my cock like that, I’ll come down your throat.” 

 

She remained in her pose on the floor, hoping he would come back and do just that. “That sounds perfect,” she grinned. 

 

“Not yet,” Tom crooked a finger at her. “Sit on the bed for me, I’m going to grab a drink for myself.” He smacked her arse as she stood, pulling her to him by her shoulders, slipping a hand between her legs from behind. “You’re dripping,” he whispered in her ear, sliding a finger between her folds. His arm came to her collarbone, pinning her to his front. “How do you taste?” Tom slipped his index finger into her mouth, groaning when she cleaned the digit with her tongue. 

 

“Just bring the bottle,” her body shuddered against him as his erection slipped between her arse. His only reply was to bite down on the hollow of her throat, catching her when she nearly stumbled. “Tom.” 

 

“On my bed,” he reminded her before releasing her. 

 

She was breathless as she crawled onto the large bed, tucking her legs beneath her and sitting on her knees. He seemed to like her like this, she thought with a smile. It was clear she’d have to thank Ginny Weasley for dragging her out to a club. 

 

Her nipples stiffened against the cold air of his room while she clasped her hands in her lap. She laughed when he appeared in the doorway, carrying a bottle of vodka with no glass in sight. Hermione grabbed the bottle from him, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink while he unbuttoned his shirt. 

 

Tom took the bottle from her outstretched hand, kneeling in front of her. She’d thought he was going to take a drink himself, but was thrilled to be wrong. He tilted the glass bottle over her, letting the ice cold liquor slide over her breast, a droplet sliding over her nipple that he caught with his tongue. 

 

She whimpered, grabbing onto his shoulders while he laid her back against the pillows, sucking on the poor nub. The bottle never left his grip, she noticed. Hermione rubbed her thighs together, desperate for friction, but he parted her legs by wedging his knee between them. “Oh, my God, please,” she begged, throwing her head back as he rubbed her clit. 

 

“Whatever you like,” he told her, licking between her breasts before latching onto her other nipple, nipping it lightly. “You have to tell me though.” 

 

She panted above him, snatching the bottle and taking a long drink before answering. “I want you to taste me,” she teased him, using his earlier words. “I want you to eat me out.” 

 

Tom left the bottle in her trembling hands, gripping her hips as he moved down her body. He left a trail of hot kisses down her abdomen, pressing his lips to her smooth mound. Hermione watched him with wide eyes as he spread her legs apart while her back was against the wooden headboard. 

 

He held her legs steady when she began to shake as he leaned in and inhaled the scent of her. “Oh, my God,” she whimpered, taking the moment for another drink. Her hangover would be horrible in the morning, but if she sobered up, she was sure she’d get embarrassed and run. “Tom,” she moaned loudly, knocking the headboard against the wall when he licked between her folds, dragging his tongue up her slit and flicking the sensitive little nub. 

 

“You’re delicious,” he growled, lowering his mouth again while maintaining eye contact with her. He lapped at her cunt with slow strokes against her clit. He watched her eyes fall shut while she pushed herself closer to his mouth. Not that he let her, he pinned her down and forced her through the pleasure he slowly gave her. 

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she groaned, as her back arched. “That feels so good, Tom, please,” she begged. She had no idea what she was begging for but when his index finger slid into her, curling deliciously while he worked to find her g spot, she knew he knew exactly what she meant.

 

Hermione screamed at the sensation, he’d added another finger. Between his fingers curling against the spot inside of her, and him sucking lightly on her clit -no one had ever done that- she felt boneless. She came hard against his mouth, spasming when he continued eating her out while her body rocked with aftershocks.

 

“Tom,” she gasped, her legs finally  relaxing as he moved up her body, capturing her lips roughly. He bit her bottom lip, his cock sliding between her lips when she scrambled  to pull him closer. “Fuck, where have you been all of my life?” 

 

He chuckled, taking a drink while she pressed her lips to his throat, biting down roughly. She was going to leave marks on him, so that when tomorrow came he would remember exactly who had left them. “Waiting to meet you in a shitty club, apparently.” 

 

She laughed, licking the vodka that slipped from the corner of his mouth and down his throat. “Tastes better off of you.” Hermione whispered to him, biting his bottom lip as he had done to her. 

 

“I can’t wait to fuck you,” he groaned, letting her shove him onto his back and grind her cunt against his stiff cock. “This is pretty,” he murmured, tracing what she assumed was a bruise he’d left on her neck. “Did I hurt you?” 

 

“Absolutely not,” she moaned, moving to impale herself. 

 

Of course he stopped her. “I want you to watch me fuck you senseless, until you’re begging.” he whispered to her, smirking when she froze over him. “I’m going to make you scream for it, Hermione.” 

 

Gripping her by the waist -  she couldn’t wait to see the bruises that would be left in the shape of his fingers tomorrow morning -  he moved her into a position she’d never been in before. “Trust me,” he purred in her ear, moving her to ride him with her back facing him. She could see them clearly in the mirror in front of his bed. His cock thick and pressed against her swollen, dripping cunt. 

 

_ Christ, he’s too fucking hot. _

 

“Tom,” she whined impatiently, just as he guided her down onto his cock. She watched, open mouthed and shaking, while he slid into her. Watching her cunt stretch to take in his massive cock made her moan loudly. 

 

Who cares if his neighbor was eavesdropping? 

 

“Tell me what you see,” he ordered, thrusting into her tight heat several times, listening to the sweet, little whimpers that kept him impossibly hard. 

 

“You fucking me,” she managed between her ragged breaths. “The way your cock stretches me, God, you’re so fucking big.” She couldn’t see his smirk, but she was sure it was there. “I can see my tits bouncing each time you slide into me.” 

 

He hummed. “Do you see how wet you are for me?” Tom asked, slamming into her harder. “Did sucking me off do that to you?” She could barely nod. “We’re going to change positions.” he said,  letting her crawl off of his lap. “Do you like being told what to do?” Tom’s voice is soft, but firm, and she could still only nod. 

 

“I do, but you’re the only one to ever give it to me how I want,” she grinned taking him by surprise. He groaned, his head falling back before it snapped back to her;

 

“On your hands and knees,” he ordered, and she crawled in front of him, bracing herself on her arms instead of her hands and arched her back. He slapped her arse, settling behind her and guiding his cock to her entrance. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You like it rough love?” 

 

“Please,” she returned, pressing herself against him, histip slipping inside of her. “I think I’d like it any way you want to give it to me.” 

 

“You shouldn’t give me that kind of power, love.” 

 

She looked back at him. “Then make me regret it.” Hermione wasn’t sure why she said it, she’d certainly never played with fire before, but it was hard to regret it when he grabbed her roughly by the hair and wrapped the strands around his knuckles. 

 

“Watch me fuck you then,” he growled. 

 

She did. She watched, while holding her breath in anticipation, when he slammed into her roughly, her front half dropping to the sheets while he fucked her like he was attempting to break her. “Tom!” she squealed, wriggling her arse when he spanked her again. She moaned - she really did love the delicious pain it caused her. 

 

She felt completely full as he thrust into her, groaning how tight her cunt is wrapped around his cock. He told her what a pretty, little cunt she had, spread so nicely by his cock. His words would have pushed her into another orgasm alone, but then he took her by surprise once more. 

 

“Play with your clit for me until you come. I want you to be a screaming mess that’s wrapped around me when you do.” 

 

She whimpered as his finger rubbed against her arse hole, while she reached between her legs. Her fingers slid over her wetness , but she managed to stroke her clit, rubbing in circles quickly as she cried out. “Have you ever had your arse fingered?” Tom asked through clenched teeth, massaging the tight ring. She shook her head. “Would you?” 

 

“Yes,” she gasped. “Jesus, I’ll try anything,” she admitted, reveling in the way he words made  his face light up. 

 

“Perfect,” he murmured, slipping his finger into her cunt alongside his cock. He coated her arse hole with her slick juices, carefully pushing the tip of his finger inside. “You’re allowed to come once you can take my finger.” 

 

Her eyes widened, but she nodded quickly. His thrusts didn’t slow as he carefully slid his finger inside of her, pausing when it reached his knuckle. Hermione adjusted to it easily, sure it was because she’d lost count of the amount of shots she’s taken, but she pushed herself backwards one the less. “Please don’t stop,” she begged, moaning as his eyes darkened and she felt his finger slide all the way in. “Move!” she shrieked at him, her hand between her legs rubbing the hard nub quickly. 

 

And he did. His  fingers moved quicker,rougher once she’d acclimatised to it, and she begged  him to be rougher. To use her however he wanted. “Come around me, Hermione,” he urged her. “Let me feel your cunt tighten around my cock before I fill you.” 

 

She’d never been so grateful for being on her birth control shot, and for him being genuine in having had a physical not too long ago. It was still risky, something she’d have never done if she wasn’t gagging for his come. 

 

He’d been right when he said she’d be screaming. 

 

Hermione screamed, his name on her lips, and she shuddered as her orgasm overtook her. She continued to rub her clit, while he fucked her hard and she knew  she was going to feel it for days. “Tom, Tom,” she gasped, his name falling repeatedly from her lips over and over again. 

 

Tom yanked her backwards by the hair, her arse against his pelvis while he sheathed himself fully inside of her while he came. He groaned her name, his voice low, broken and husky. “Fuck,” he gasped, “it’s more like where have you been all of my life?” He muttered under his breath against her shoulder blade. She was  sure she wasn’t supposed to hear him. 

 

She turned to face him on her knees, dragging her soaked fingers across his lips, coating them with her juices. 

 

It was him who shouted though, when she wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock, sucking lightly while she tasted herself on him.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta love to weestarmeggie17.

Ginny came round at four in the afternoon, repeatedly buzzing until Hermione opened the door to her flat. The sated look on her face gave her away immediately as her friend’s eyes widened and she pointed at her. “Your lips are bruised!” she exclaimed, barging into the living room and tossing her jacket over the back. “What did you do last night?” 

 

Hermione laughed easily. “More like what did I do last night and,” she looked to her watch. “Until about half an hour ago.” Ginny’s lips parted in momentary shock. 

 

“You little hussy! You’re barely walking, aren’t you?” Her ginger haired friend asked with a breathy laugh. “I see how you’re trying to hide it.” 

 

Hermione shrugged, trying not to move her hips so much.he could still feel how tight Tom’s grip had been as he fucked her into the wall of his shower not even an hour earlier. “Tom is insatiable.” 

 

“I know I wanted you to find someone to give you the shag you deserved, but this is a pleasant surprise. Will you see him again?” 

 

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip, opening her refrigerator door and grabbing two water bottles from the top shelf. Ginny caught one in her right hand, before drumming her fingertips against the kitchen island while she waited for an answer. “Doubtful, though we exchanged phone numbers.” 

 

“Why wouldn’t you see him again, Hermione?” Ginny asked her, sliding into a barstool in front of the island. “Was there something weird about him? Maybe he’s a serial killer?” 

 

She chuckled. “No, Ginny, believe it or not, I can attract normal men as well. We went to breakfast this morning, and we got onto the topic of work. Not that he told me exactly what he does, but I gather the impression that it takes up the majority of his time. Plus  I’m sure I’ll be preoccupied with classes.” 

 

Ginny frowned. “You never give yourself breaks, but I suppose if you need to unwind, you know just who to call.” Her eyes widened as Hermione’s phone vibrated on the table. “Is that a picture message?” 

 

Chewing on her lip, Hermione nodded.  “Before you got here, he might have asked for a photo of me.” 

 

Ginny’s eyebrows nearly shot into her hair. “And did you agree to send him a naked photo of yourself, Miss Granger?” 

 

She exhaled harshly, already knowing that she had dug this hole and buried herself. “No,” she said slowly. “But I might have told him to send me one first and then I’d send one.” Her cheeks heated up as Ginny sniggered. 

 

“I want to see!” She demanded. “Obviously he must be hot as fuck to have you like this.” She moved, ruffling Hermione’s hair and peering over her shoulder. “Open that fucking picture, ‘Mione.” 

 

“Maybe I could say I didn’t get it, and just delete it.” 

 

“Not likely he’d believe you since you always leave your read receipts on.” Another snort. “Open it or I’ll do  it for you.” 

 

Hermione sighed, and pressed her thumb over the button, unlocking it while her friend grinned in anticipation. Hermione’s lips parted hungrily, her eyes widening at the photo. “Holy shit, he fucked you with  _ that _ ?” Ginny gasped, leaning closer. 

 

He’d poised the camera above him, tilting the view to show his chiseled chest and abdomen. His hand grasping his heavy erection through gray joggers, and the outline left nothing to the imagination “Yes.” Hermione choked out. “Fuck.” she muttered. “And really, he’s only slightly bigger than average.” She lied.

 

“Mione, your hand would barely fit around it.” 

 

“Really? Well, my mouth fit around it perfectly.” Hermione grinned triumphantly. 

 

“The real question is what will you send him?” Ginny paused for a moment before smiling. “Is that..is that his shirt on the counter?” Hermione looked down, red staining her cheeks. “Grab it, and take you clothes off. Including your bra, but leave the knickers.” 

 

“Ginerva Weasley!” She started. 

 

“Live a little.” Ginny rolled her eyes, grabbing the shirt and Hermione’s wrist and leading her into the bedroom of her flat. “Go on, strip.” 

 

With one last grumble, Hermione yanked her shirt over her head and shimmied out of the shorts Tom had given her that morning. She reached behind her, unclasping her bra and let it fall to the floor. “Would it kill you to stop gawking at me?” 

 

“There’s marks all over you!” Ginny squealed. 

 

True enough, her breasts had love bites on them, and she instantly remembered how he’d kissed those spots gently after they’d started to fall asleep. How Tom could completely dominate her, but hadn’t shied away from post coital cuddles. 

 

“Oh, he’s going to die.” Ginny told her, motioning for her to sit on the bed. “I can’t wait for Harry to ask me how my day was and I can tell him, ‘Oh, just the usual. Seeing massive cocks and taking sexy photos of Hermione for the new man in her life.’ I’ll make sure Ron hears it, that bastard.” 

 

Hermione snorted. “How about you don’t tell anyone at all, and it can stay our secret. Where do you want me?” 

 

“Kneel on the bed.” She instructed before reaching  out to adjust his shirt that was so much larger on her. With it unbuttoned and either side covering her breasts to the point that they were covered until the edge of her nipple, she was satisfied with the amount of cleavage showing. 

 

“Is this not weird for you?” 

 

“You did it for me when I needed to spice up my relationship with Harry.” 

 

“I will  _ not  _ be masturbating in front of you.” 

 

Ginny howled with laughter and wiped her eyes. “With any luck you won’t need to anymore. Not with this man being so interested in you. How old is he, by the way?” 

 

“Seven years older.” 

 

“Not so bad when you’re twenty five.” Ginny commented. “Well, only you know what he would like, so pose as if he were here.” 

 

Hermione realized in the split moment that it should have been harder than it was, but she’d quickly parted her legs as she had the night before. Tom would think of when she’d been on her knees, lips wrapped around his cock. One hand slid down her stomach, fingers toying with the edge of her knickers before she decided to just go with it, and slid her fingers into them. 

 

“Goddamn.” Ginny muttered. “Does he know where you live? If he does, he’s bound to be over here instantly.” She took the photo with a wry grin before handing Hermione her phone back and leaving her to dress. “You know, Hermione, it is okay if you like him.” 

 

Not even bothering to dress, she tucked her legs under herself and reopened her messages.  _ And where is mine, Hermione? It’s impolite to keep a man waiting.  _

 

_ If you don’t watch out, I might make you wait longer. I must say, my picture is superior to yours.  _

 

Three dots bounced as she waited for him to reply. She wondered if this was the beginning of anything, or if it would be a short conversation that would end as soon as it began. The thought made her a bit sad. He was a fantastic lay, but he was intelligent, kept up with her easily and shared so many common interests. Perhaps though, that would be boring for him. 

 

_ Given the subject matter, I believe you. If I were there, I would take the photos and pose you however I wished.  _

 

Need bloomed in her lower belly, and she typed before she could lose the nerve.  _ Well.. I would say to come over, but it would seem I already have someone for that job.  _

 

_ Is that so?  _ The instant reply made her freeze. Not that tone truly transferred over text messages, but she could feel that his playfulness had vanished. She could imagine his eyebrows knitting together in silent fury. 

 

So, he would have been unhappy if she’d been with another man. 

 

_ It was Ginny. It’s not a habit of mine to get naked in front of men. _

 

_ I should apologize for my assumptions.  _

 

_ Maybe not. I would have been furious if you weren’t the least bit jealous, but perhaps that’s too forward.  _

 

_ The thought of another man bringing you to your knees did infuriate me. I’m not sure why.  _

 

_ This is too serious of a subject matter, Tom.  _

 

_ She sent the picture and then nervously _ chewed on her bottom lip waiting for his reply. She heard her front door open and the sound of Harry’s voice. She waited eagerly for him to respond  until her bedroom door was thrown open. Her eyes fell on Ron, whose cheeks were red in anger as he took in the sight of her. 

 

Taking the moment she had, she did send a text to Tom, as those three lovely dots continued and she was disappointed that she would have to wait to see his reply.  _ Tom, I’m so sorry. I have to go, my ex boyfriend just stormed into my bedroom.  _

 

Hermione locked her phone, grateful to have thought to change the password to it after their breakup. “Ronald, please get out of my room. I’m not even dressed.” she clutched the shirt, holding each side shut.

 

“Are you trying to get back at me by fucking some stranger in a club?” He yelled, and she blinked. Harry hovered by the door, hand gripping the door trim tightly. “Is that his fucking shirt?” 

 

“Be quiet. I have neighbors.” Hermione hissed, reaching for her phone when he snatched it from the bed beside her. 

 

“Sending naked pictures now, Hermione?” He continued. “Tell me where was this slutty side when we were together?” 

 

“Get out of my flat before I call the police!” She screamed, fingers holding her shirt shut as she slapped him across the face. “Fuck you, I don’t belong to you!” 

 

“What’s with all those bruises over you, Hermione?” He continued, ignoring her words and stepping closer to her.Harry moved and put himself between the two of them. 

 

“Ron,  _ enough. _ ” Harry started, pushing him back. “Hermione is an adult. What she does in her spare business is not your concern. You’ve been broken up for six months.” 

 

“I was waiting for her to come around.” Ron grumbled. 

 

“Get out.” She repeated, reaching for her cell phone. Her eyes widened as his arm reared back and he threw it against the nearest wall. “Ronald!”

 

Harry gripped her by the shoulder as their friend stormed from her bedroom and the door to her flat slammed shut behind him. “Mione, are you okay? Ron will calm down soon. He’s just jealous.” 

 

“I would just really like to be alone.” She murmured. 

 

* * *

  
  


After what turned out to be a two hour ordeal, she found herself with a new cellphone, an expense she could barely afford  to add to her monthly bill. Not to mention she didn’t have Tom’s number now, or that photo he’d sent her. He’d text her at some point she imagined. Well, hoped really, because his conversation would have made for a welcome distraction. 

 

Suffice to say, when her phone vibrated atop her comforter that night, she lunged across the bed and opened the message from an unknown number.  _ I thought you would want space, but it’s been six hours since you sent that message. Are you safe?  _

 

Her lips curved into a smile, she set to typing a reply.  _ Hi, he didn’t hurt me beyond hurling insults and shattering my cell phone. I didn’t reply because I no longer had your number. I bought this cell phone a few hours ago.  _

 

_ Is he going to reimburse you for the damage?  _ She laughed before she reminded herself that he didn’t know Ron, or how he already hoped that he wasn’t a complete prat. 

 

_ Not bloody likely. Ron will think he’s right, as he always does. Says “I was just waiting for her to come around.” after yelling at me for sending naked photos of myself. And also for having a one night stand.  _

 

_ Is it a one night stand?  _

 

She bit her lip harshly, wishing her heart wasn’t pounding so hard.  _ I’m not sure. Is that what you want this to be? I mean, it hasn’t been a full twenty four hours since we last saw each other and we’re already texting one another.  _

 

_ I don’t want this to be a one time thing, Hermione. I thought that would be clear when I took your phone and saved my number.  _

 

_ Sarcastic shit, I assumed that, but I’ve had enough of getting my hopes up.  _

 

_ This Ron truly was a horrible boyfriend, wasn’t he?  _

 

_ Besides the point, I shouldn’t have dropped that on you so you’d feel obligated.  _

 

_ Then it’s decided that we’re in mutual agreement that we’d like to see one another again.  _

 

Hermione muffled her laugh with her hand. She could imagine he was amused, the corner of his mouth twitching as it had at breakfast.  _ Yes, but also, when my phone was destroyed I lost the photo you sent me. Care to send it to me again?  _

 

_ What do I get in return?  _

 

_ What would you like?  _

 

His replies always came quickly, but this one was different as a call came across her screen. “Hello?” she began hesitantly, crossing her legs. “Tom?” 

 

“What I would really like is to see you again.” He told her, his voice low in her ear. She shivered at the implications she heard in it. “Do you have plans tonight?” 

 

“I’ve been watching Netflix in your shirt and a pair of knickers, so no, not really.” Hermione giggled, fiddling with the halfway buttoned shirt. “Is that weird? Your shirt is comfortable.”

 

“Fuck no.” He rumbled, and in the background she heard his front door close. “Would you be comfortable with my coming over?” 

 

“Yes.” she whispered. “I don’t live far from you. I’ll send you my address.” 

* * *

  
  
  


With her bag slung over her shoulder, Hermione made her way down the corridor with Ginny beside her. “Has Ron talked to you?” 

 

“No, I think he’s avoiding me after he broke my cell phone,” she grumbled. “He’s probably worried I’ll come to my senses and punch him in the nose this time.” 

 

“It won’t be as funny when it’s his face instead of Malfoy’s.” Ginny grinned and waved to the two boys approaching him. “Just ignore Ron. It shouldn’t be hard since Lavender is with him.” 

 

Her shoulders tensed at her name. The girl that Ron had been fucking into the mattress of their shared bed, and the sight of pale legs tossed over his shoulders still hadn’t gone away. “That’s just wonderful.” 

 

“Like they’ll be talking to you once we get into class. She’s scared to death you’ll do something to retaliate and Ron won’t be stupid enough to provoke you where he can be embarrassed.” 

 

Hermione squared her shoulders and followed Ginny into their class, ignoring Ron’s hand settling on her shoulder. She shrugged him off. “Wait, wait, shit.” Ginny said loudly, turning around and shoving Hermione backwards. “Before you go in there, he definitely recognized me, and it’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t know where he worked,” she whispered quickly into her ear. 

 

Ron stared at them with his eyes narrowed as he failed to hear their conversation. “Come on, let’s fucking go, Hermione,” he spat, hauling her around into the lecture hall by the strap of her bag and shoving her inside. 

 

She tripped over a wrinkle in the carpet, her eyes squeezing shut as she went forward. Someone caught her. It must have been Harry. Naturally he’d have been watching his two friends fighting again since it had been the one thing he could rely on them to do. However, the sharp inhale above her didn’t belong to her friend. 

 

“Are you all right?” Tom asked her, bending to grab her bag from the floor as he let go of her. “Nasty fall there.” 

 

“I’ve always been clumsy,” she replied softly, all of her hopes that he was only a fellow student being dashed when her eyes fell on the university issued badge on his jacket. “My apologies, I must not be very observant.” 

 

“Ah, but there’s no way you could have known that was there,” he said. “Students have been tripping over it all morning. What is your name?” 

 

Her cheeks flushed, and Ginny looked anywhere but at the disaster in front of her. “Hermione Granger,” she supplied, her friends looking on in surprise at her hostility. If only they knew. Better they didn’t. Ron would throw the biggest fit this university had ever seen, so Hermione chose to pretend there wasn’t a photo on her cell phone of his cock throbbing in his hand. 

 

“Miss Granger,” he tested the title on his tongue, and she was furious to learn that it still sounded as good as it had during sex. “Professor Riddle.” The corners of his lips twitched as she rolled her eyes. 

 

“Pleasure,” she snapped, pushing past him to find a seat in the front like she’d planned on doing before the world got tipped upside down. Ginny slid into the seat beside her, her eyes wide as she started to speak. “Not a word. Not here where anyone could hear.” Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket, and her jaw clenched. 

 

_ I take it the red headed oaf is the ex boyfriend?  _ He stood at the entrance still, casually greeting students with a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

 

_ That’s Ron. I can’t believe this. You’re my fucking professor.  _

 

She watched from the corner of her eye. There was a genuine smile as he replied to her, a smile that made her uneasy.  _ You’re fucking your professor.  _

 

Hermione swallowed audibly and typed two words while Ginny looked over her shoulder.  _ Not anymore.  _

 

* * *

  
  
  


They didn’t get along, but her peers assumed this was the same case as it had been with any other professor. They assumed that Riddle couldn’t stand her because she was an insufferable know it all that debated with him whenever they disagreed. Which was often. However, the debates were likely the highlight of her day, as pressed as she was to admit it. He was upset that she had denied him, cut their -well, whatever they’d had- short. 

 

Sometimes, there was a text on her phone when she woke up. It never failed to send her heart racing as she read a simple  _ good morning,  _ or  _ would you please wear that black skirt today?  _ Hermione didn’t reply, choosing to leave the messages on read. But the smirk on his face when she had worn the skirt he’d asked so nicely for had been thrilling. 

 

She wasn’t surprised when he tested his luck by telling her to forego her knickers one day, but he’d been shocked when she parted her legs for the briefest moment to flash him her cunt. Tom had remained behind his podium for the duration of class, probably because his cock was straining against his zipper. 

 

Tom hadn’t attempted to convince her to meet with him at his flat, or hers, or even in his damned office. She was ashamed to admit how often she daydreamed in his class, her fantasies usually consisting of being bent over his desk, or maybe pushed against the wall. These thoughts were wholly unwelcome, and he had to have known it by the time he’d yelled her name to grab her attention. 

 

“Yes, Professor Riddle?” His eyes flashed at her nonchalance. 

 

“Is my class so boring that you’re unable to pay attention?” He snapped, placing his hands on the table in front of her and glaring down at her. 

 

She caught the sight of his muscles straining against the white oxford that she’d prefer to rip off and be done with it. “Is that a rhetorical question? I’m not sure you’d appreciate my answer, Professor Riddle.” 

 

She smiled pleasantly at the way his eyes narrowed. “She’s sorry, Professor Riddle. It’s just that Hermione has a date tonight, and can’t get her mind off of it.” Ginny interjected. 

 

“Hopefully someone can pull that stick out of her ass then.” Ron grumbled from a row behind them. 

 

Hermione paled as the playfulness vanished from Tom’s expression. Unable to question her about her ‘date’, he made his way back to his podium, glaring at her as frequently as he could without arousing suspicion. He’d believed the lie told by her friend, but she didn’t know if she was pleased that he was so obviously jealous. 

 

Or if it made her angry. 

 

“What were you thinking?” Hermione whispered to Ginny the moment his back was turned. 

 

“I wasn’t trying to piss him off. McLaggen did ask me to, you know,” At Hermione’s confusion she continued. “He asked me to ask you if you’d like to go out to a party tonight.” 

 

Hermione scoffed. “Is he twelve? Why couldn’t he ask me on a date himself?” 

 

“He did ask you. You were too busy squabbling with Riddle to notice.” Ron said from behind her. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you fancied our professor.” 

 

“As entertaining as your commentary is, Mr. Weasley, do shut up.” Tom snapped. His students eyed him warily, casting their eyes down towards their work. The lecture would end in a measly five minutes after they received their latest essay, and not one of them spoke. 

 

Hermione leaned back in her chair, arms folded across her chest as she stole a peek at Tom. He leaned over his desk, rifling through what she assumed was their assignments to be handed back. “Miss Granger, stay after this class. I need to discuss your latest essay.” 

 

She paled, seeing Ginny’s expression from the corner of her eye. Hermione knew why the lastest essay was subpar compared to her normal work, but this couldn’t have come at a worse time. “Professor Riddle,” she spoke quietly. “Could this be discussed tomorrow?”

 

He looked up, clearly exasperated and irritated while he threw his reading glasses across his mahogany desk. “Oh, I don’t know, Miss Granger. Could you have simply done it correctly the first time?” 

 

Hermione flinched, a small motion that did not go unnoticed by her friends or the man in front of the large class. His eyes softened, a tiny fact that no one else would have noticed. “You’re out of line, Riddle.” Ron snapped, jumping to his feet. His binder slid to the floor behind her chair. “She bloody works hard to put herself through University and you’re going to make her late because she chose sleep over one paper?” He ended scathingly. 

 

“Ron, stop before you get yourself in trouble.” Hermione told him, turning in her chair, resting her arm on the back of her chair. “It’s fine. Ollivander is hardly going to fire me for being tardy one day. Stay out of this.” 

 

“Dismissed.” Riddle snapped. “Miss Granger, my office please.” 

 

She gathered her books, carefully sliding them into her backpack. “We can wait outside the door for you.” Ron offered quietly. 

 

“I don’t know why you’re rushing to my defense, but no thank you. I will be perfectly fine on my own. He’s our professor, not a murderer.” Hermione ignored Ron muttering under his breath that maybe he was. “Thank you for taking up for me though.” 

 

Lavender rolled her eyes, tugging on his wrist. He remained still however as he looked Hermione over. “Well,” he drawled. “I could hardly sit there while he insulted you.That bastard is worse than Snape.” 

 

She laughed. “True enough. See you.” 

 

“Hey, Mione.” Ron called. Hermione looked over her shoulder, looking from the barely contained anger on Riddle’s face and Ron. “I’d like to talk later.” 

 

She nodded once before stepping off the bottom step of her row and following Tom into his office behind his desk. The room was devoid of clutter, the waste basket empty and his desk neatly arranged. It seemed that everything had a place. Another clear sign of how she didn’t belong. It was a sharp jab that she concealed. 

 

Tom sat in the leather chair behind his desk while she took the gray office chair in front of his desk. She skimmed over the golden name plaque on his desk  _ Professor Tom Riddle.  _ Grumbling under his breath, he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his oxford, loosening his tie and throwing it over the dark stained wood of his desk. 

 

“Do you have to do that, Professor Riddle? It’s rather unprofessional.” Hermione spoke candidly, butterflies rushing around in her stomach when he smirked. 

 

“It’s rather unprofessional for your professor to text you in the mornings with instructions on what to wear, or what not to wear shall I say.” As if he were pleased with the blush that bloomed in her cheeks he continued. “Did you forget to research for your last assignment? I would have expected the six pages of mediocrity to have come from Ronald Weasley, not you.” 

 

Her jaw clenched. “I didn’t forget, but I had to complete the essay in two hours without having ample time to research. I imagine you don’t care for my excuses, which is why I turned it in without explaining.” 

 

“I’d love to know what is keeping my brightest student from excelling like she should be. If this is the type of work you expect to continue turning into professors, your scholarship will-,” 

 

“I’m quite aware of my scholarship status, thank you.” Hermione snapped, her fingers gripping the arm rests of her chair. “Last week we had two of our employees quit at work. If I wasn’t here, or sleeping, I was at work. My studies did suffer, but I couldn’t miss work either. I prioritized what had to come first.” 

 

“With your scholarship, one would think your academics would take priority over a cafe job.” 

 

Hermione glared at him. “My scholarship, which I am grateful for, covers the cost of tuition. It does not cover the rent for my flat, nor the cost of utilities, or groceries, or textbooks. Without my scholarship, I wouldn’t be at this University. Without my cafe job as you so eloquently put it, I wouldn’t be in this bloody city at all. So if you’ve only called me into your office to mock me, I think I’ll take my leave.” She stood, seizing her bag by the strap. 

 

“Sit down, Hermione.” He only continued once she was seated once more. “It wasn’t my intention to belittle you. Would you like the chance to redo the assignment?” 

 

She bit her lip, shoulders dropping. “I would love nothing more than to redo it, but with my personal arrangements right now, and my other course work, I wouldn’t have time. Whatever grade it is, I’ll have to settle.” The disappointment in herself was nerve wracking; she could only imagine what her mother would have said. 

 

Still, it was a choice of one assignment or falling behind in her other courses. “You can turn it in anytime before the end of term.” His voice softened. “If you can even get a sentence in during slow periods at your workplace.” Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. “I know what grade you would have gotten if you’d been able to complete it properly. I can just-,” 

 

“Would you do this for any other student, Tom?” She asked quietly. “If it weren’t me, would you be so giving? This is why everything between us has to stop. You treat me differently. Here you are trying to give me a free grade and I’m not going to let anyone think I slept with my professor for a grade.” 

 

“You know that isn’t what this is, Hermione.” It was a mistake to look directly at him. He’d rolled up his sleeves, bracing his arms against the calendar on his desk and he was leaning towards her. She knew he’d locked the door when they’d entered his classroom, the tell tale click had set her nerves on fire. It would be so easy to crawl over his desk and into his lap, and he looked like he wanted her to. No doubt the reason he’d undone his buttons and tie just so he could rattle her. 

 

“No one else would know that. If Ginny didn’t already know that I was capable of the marks I have, she would think the same.” 

 

“No one has to know.” Tom told her. “Contrary to whatever you have going through your mind, I miss more than just mind blowing sex. You’re a wonderful conversationalist.” 

 

She sighed. “Don’t do this. Don’t tell me you miss me when all it will do is make this harder. You are my professor and I am your student. I’m not interested in any sort of relationship where I’m a secret. It doesn’t feel right.” 

 

“It would only be until you weren’t my student anymore.  It’s only few months until the end of the semester. It might be frowned upon, and there would be gossip, but it’s not against policy.” 

 

“You’re implying that this is serious enough to risk your reputation, and I simply couldn’t let you do that. I enjoyed my time with you, and I loathe how much I look forward to text messages from you each morning. I think it’s best that we both move on with our lives. It was amazing and it’s over. Thank you for the opportunity to make up my assignment; it was very kind of you.” 

 

As she closed the door behind her, she was rather sure that the sound that followed her exit was his picture frame falling to the ground from his desk and shattering. “I’m not kind, Hermione.” Tom called out, and she bit her lip as her eyes watered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I wouldn't update so soon because I'd run out of prewritten chapters, but I am weak for feedback when people want more. So here we are. I think it goes without saying, but the italicized bits are text messages.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWORE I would wait to update but there was so much love from readers and well, I was bored at work. So if anything is fucky it’s because I updated from my iPad.

The texts stopped.

Hermione sat on the chair behind the counter at Ollivander’s, spinning slowly as she scrolled through their previous text messages. It wasn’t healthy she knew, but at this point she’d finally caught back up with her classes, and had managed to read ahead several chapters by getting five hours of sleep a night instead of eight.

She was exhausted. Despite being the one to tell him, in no uncertain terms that the both needed to move on, her heart still ached each time she saw him. She didn’t pretend that it was love, or little more than infatuation, but he had taken her advice to heart. A week later she’d seen a pretty dark haired woman on his arm. Hermione was sure that this woman was closer to his age as well, and perhaps that was for the best.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she’d taken him up on his offer. It could have been their secret, but she would have always wondered if he was ashamed of her. A silly thought, surely, considering they had gone to breakfast the morning after their first night together and he’d fingered her beneath the table. She had little doubt that the waitress had noticed, but she had stayed far away from their booth until after Hermione had orgasmed, coming all over his fingers.

If she could just erase the memories from her mind, what he felt like, what he tasted like, what he looked like when he laughed or genuinely smiled, it would have been easier. She’d fancied him as her boyfriend before she walked into his classroom and a white, university issued, name badge turned the world upside down.

Since that awkward meeting in his office, she’d gone out with Cormac one time. She supposed it had been doomed from the start since she’d compared him to Tom in every possible way. The first thing, he’d talked about rugby, a sport that she understood since Harry and Ron had always played. Cormac didn’t notice that she wasn’t interested. Hermione had been instantly reminded of the discussion over philosophy that she’d had with Tom.

She tried her best to enjoy the date, but once he’d attempted to snog her senseless against her front door, that was the end. Cormac was too rough, far too soon, and while he’d meant to nip her lip sensually, he’d bit down to hard and bloodied it. With a sheepish apology he’d left her and they hadn’t spoken since.

As the door chimed, she called out, “Welcome to Ollivander’s, how can I help you today?” It was as she looked up that her heart sank. Tom stood at the counter with the dark haired woman that she’d seen earlier that week. “Hi, Professor Riddle, nice to see you.” She smiled.

“Is the tea here any good?” The woman asked Tom, her nose crinkling as she doubted the establishment she’d set foot in. Somehow, Hermione was certain if it weren’t for Tom’s agenda, she never would have. Judging from her flawless curls and the rings on her fingers, plus the designer purse, this humble cafe on the corner wasn’t her restaurant of choice.

“Oh, yes. Miss Granger is excellent. You won’t be disappointed, Bella.”

She nearly snorted. Of course her name was Bella. “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” Hermione asked, clasping her hands in front of her. As the door chimed again, she nearly groaned, but the straight face of his companion stopped her.

Ron waved to her as he approached the counter, hopping into one of the stools. She nodded, waving back while waiting to see if Riddle and this ‘Bella’ had an order or not. “Just two of these will be fine,” he muttered, pointing towards the blueberry muffins in the front of the case. She didn’t miss the way he glared in the redhead’s direction.

Hermione quickly bagged them, along with two cups of tea. “Will that be all?”

Tom nodded, while the woman inspected her nails. “Are you allowed to accept tips?” He asked her with the smallest of smirks on his face. She’d never wanted to strangle him before, but the urge was inexplicable now.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ve hardly done anything after all.” Hermione replied, pointing towards the card reader for him to insert it. “Thank you though.”

“I insist.” Tom told her, attempting to hand her a tip that was double what he’d paid for their food. Hermione shook her head and handed him the receipt.

“Oh, really you should take it, dear.” Bella told her, and Tom’s shoulders stiffened. “There’s a store right around the corner where you can buy a hairbrush. You must be in desperate need of one considering that atrocity. Horrible to look at if you ask me.”

Hermione glanced at Tom, just as he mouthed something she couldn’t understand. “Well, I didn’t ask. At least I can buy a hairbrush to fix my hair. You can’t buy anything that would make you pleasant to be around.” Hermione retorted scathingly.

Bella’s eyes widened and she jabbed a perfectly manicured nail -who filed their nails into points?- into Hermione chest. “You little bitch.”

Tom’s fingers wrap around Bella’s wrist as he tugged her away. “Bella, you were rude to her. Not everyone will take your insults without retribution. Leave Miss Granger alone.”

“Retribution?” She echoed before a cruel smile crossed her face and there was no time for Hermione to move before the tea she’d just poured was thrown onto her.

Ron was over the counter before Tom could come near her, and his hands were on her immediately, tugging on the string holding her apron together. “Mione, you okay?”

“No,” she growled. “You,” she spat, pointing at Bella, who wore a mask of innocence. “Get out of this establishment. Ron, what do you think you’re doing?”

“The shirt has to go. Now is hardly the time to be bashful, the tea is scalding hot against you.” Ron shrugged his jacket off, laying it on the counter before pulling her T-shirt over her head.

She caught the look on Tom’s face before he dragged Bella from the shop. He looked positively enraged by the easy way Ron panicked over her, helping her slip her arms into his jacket while he zipped it over her stomach and breasts.

Hermione turned away from the sight of him. He could go fuck himself for attempting to make her jealous. Nevermind that it had worked.

“Thank you for your quick thinking.” Hermione said quietly, moving to grab a mop from behind the closet. “I’ll wash this before I return it to you.”

“You don’t have to worry about it, I’ll get it whenever you have time. What the fuck was her problem?”

“Not a clue, but get out from behind the counter before Ollivander comes in here. If that witch makes a complaint, I’m sure to get sacked.”

“Riddle looked furious, maybe he’ll prevent her from filing one.”

“Doubtful.” She muttered. “Clearly she enjoys making those around her miserable.”

Ron slipped out from behind the counter, resuming his seat. “Could I get a cup of tea once you’ve finished?”

“Sure. I have to ask though, what are you doing here anyway? You haven’t come to Ollivander’s since we broke up.”

Ron was quiet, fiddling with a napkin dispenser on the countertop. “I told you I wanted to talk.”

“You told me that two weeks ago, I assumed it wasn’t important since you never reached out.” She replied.

“More like I wasn’t sure how to bring it up without you beating the shit out of me. You’ve got a temper.” He smiled at the memory of seeing Malfoy’s nose bloodied and Hermione could only roll her eyes.

“Hardly.” She scoffed. “Go on then. Out with it, Weasley.”

“I,” he hesitated. “I really fucked you over last year and never bothered to tell you how sorry I was.”

Freezing in place as she mopped the tile floor, she looked over her shoulder in disbelief. “Where is this coming from? Did Ginny or Harry put you up to this because I swear to-”

“No one put me up to apologizing. Blimey. I never told you how sorry I was because I didn’t regret it. I was an arse to you, but what did I care?”

“You’re not painting yourself in a great light here, Ron.”

“I’m groveling.” He dragged his hands down his face in frustration. “I regret it all, hurting you, losing you.”

“Ron.” She said stiffly, storing the mop and looking at the floor. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t, we can’t,”

“I know you have someone new,”

“I don’t, actually, but that’s besides the point. You cheated on me with Lavender. You’re dating Lavender.”

“I dumped her. Or she dumped me depending on how you look at it.” Hermione’s shoulders sank as he stood, his index finger curling under her chin. “I don’t expect to get you back, but you deserve the apology.”

She nodded, rubbing her eyes. “Thank you.” Hermione muttered. “Why did the two of you break up?”

“The real reason?” He asked her.

Hermione nodded.

“She was sucking me off and I moaned your name.”

Hermione looked horrified. “What the actual fuck, Ronald Weasley?”

 

 

* * *

 

Her phone vibrated in her lap while she sat with her back against her headboard that night. Grabbing a handful of popcorn, she reached for the device with the other and nearly choked. The message on her screen was from Tom, and it was a lengthy one that made her lunge for the remote to pause her Netflix binge.

Hermione, I don’t expect you to reply to this message, but I would prefer it if you did. I’m sorry for Bellatrix’s actions towards you at your place of employment. She was a nightmare, I know. I received an email from Mr. Weasley asking me to please urge her not to make a complaint. This was my intention, but after she read the message over my shoulder, she’s sure to make an appearance to speak with your boss. That being said, would it be possible for me to meet with him as soon as possible? I will be professional and I’m doing this because I care about you, though I’m not sure why, and not because I expect to get in your knickers.

She could imagine him spending an awfully long time typing out the novella of a text, being careful with his punctuation as it was one of his many pet peeves. Her heartbeat was erratic. Before telling herself again that this wasn’t healthy and an awful idea, she pressed the button beside his name. Hermione placed the call on speaker, laying down with her head at the foot of her bed.

“Hermione?” He was out of breath, a small fact that brought a smile to her face.

“I’m here.” She replied. “I know I shouldn’t have called, but I couldn’t help myself. Are you with anyone?” She could hear a beeping in the background that belonged to his car alarm.

“Not anymore, I was at a staff meeting while Dumbledore went on and on about health care. It’s a mystery how one person can talk about such a boring subject for over an hour.” Tom said. The car door shut gently and she imagined him sitting in the black, four door car without reaching for his seatbelt.

“It’s important.” She scolded. “My boss is Mr. Ollivander. I don’t know if he will listen to you though. I think he wants to find a reason to let me go.”

“Why would he want to lose his best employee? I doubt he can find a uni student with your dedication.”

“My class schedule makes it difficult for him. He needs someone who can work full time and I’m unable to meet those needs. You’re welcome to drop by, but I’ve been applying for new jobs all night. Well, I was. I’m actually lying in bed, watching Netflix now, but I didn’t tell you that.”

“What are you wearing?”

Her breath caught. Looking down at her legs, she told him the truth. “A long tshirt and my knickers. Bras aren’t very comfortable so I took it off once I got home.”

“I shouldn’t have asked that. Your answer makes everything worse.” His voice was low, husky in her ear. “This is ridiculous. I should be there, or you here.”

“At a staff meeting?” Hermione joked.

“At least I wouldn’t be bored to tears.” He said. “I remember quite vividly what I did to you at breakfast the morning after we met.”

“I remember.” Came her quiet reply. “I bit down on my lip so hard to keep myself from crying out that I drew blood. I also remember how you licked your fingers clean and how the waitress would barely come near us.”

“To be fair, she probably thought I was going to put you on the table and eat you for breakfast.” He said dryly.

“I would have let you.”

She heard his hand came down on his steering wheel, probably curled into a tight fist. “Fuck,” he growled. “Hermione, I want you so fucking badly. I’m not accustomed to not getting what I want.”

She whimpered in his ear, her fingers toying with the edge of her knickers. “And you think I don’t want you?” Hermione challenged. “I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s unhealthy.”

“One night?” He asked her.

“It could never be one night and you bloody well know it, Riddle. We’ll probably never be able to get enough of each other if it happened again.” Her fingers slid between her folds, and she couldn’t help the moan that left her lips.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m touching myself,” she whispered, listening to the sharp intake of his breath. “It’s all your fault. Your fucking voice.”

“Are you wet, love?”

“Of course I am,” Hermione gasped, circling her clit. “It should be you, but you of course had to pursue a career in education. It’s like you were meant to ruin my life by giving me a marvelous time and then turning out to be my professor. Of all the rotten luck.”

“I don’t think I can apologize for my career, Hermione. I’m rather fond of it. If I hadn’t been a professor, I wouldn’t have met you in that club. Wouldn’t that have been a shame? I’d have never known what a dirty little thing you could be.” Tom spoke to her gently. “If I can’t have you right now in person, I want this.”

She didn’t hesitate like she should have. “Okay.” Hermione agreed. “It’s not as bad as-”

“I don’t give a fuck about what is morally wrong, Hermione. If you told me yes, I would drive to your flat right now and rip those pretty knickers off of you and fuck you until you were begging for mercy.”

“Fuck.” She whined. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t say things like that to me. It’s not fair.”

“Take off your shirt and your knickers. Can you do that for me?” He asked her. Hermione could sense his smirk over the phone.

“Done.” She whispered.

“Good.” He replied. “Spread your legs for me. How wet are you? Are you wet enough for me to thrust inside of your tight cunt?”

“Tom,” she bit out.

“Hermione?”

“I can’t do this.”

“I worried I might push you too-”

“The key is under the mat. If you aren’t here in ten minutes I’ll change my mind. Please come.” Hermione whispered quickly, hoping the allure of this wouldn’t suddenly vanish now that she’d caved.

“I’ll be there in five minutes, and don’t you dare put your clothes back on.”

“Yes, professor.” Hermione replied cheekily.

 

* * *

 

  
He made the fifteen minute trip in six minutes and sighed in relief when the spare key was still in place. Making quick work of the lock, he stepped inside her familiar flat, discarding his coat and flipping the lock back into place. “Hermione?”

She stepped out of her room, covering herself shyly. He was pleased to see that she’d listened and her clothes had remained on the floor. “Last chance. I’ll turn around and leave if that’s what you want.”

Too slowly for his liking she shook her head. “Please stay with me.” She smiled as a grin spread across his face and he reached her in three long strides, cupping her face and kissing her harshly. He spun her around, pushing her back against the wall while his right hand slowly slid across her collarbone, the tip of his finger brushing against her nipple.

Moaning and arching into him, her fingers slid into his hair. “Tom.” She whimpered.

“I missed you too fucking much.” He growled in her ear, grabbing her legs as he slid down her body. “Seeing you everyday in my class while you refused to have anything to do with me.” He knelt before her, bringing her legs over her shoulders where she was still pinned to the wall and his lips brushed against her clit, “was torture.”

Hermione spasmed, tugging on his hair roughly. “If anyone knew they would think I was fucking you for a grade.”

“Then they’re fucking idiots. You’re brilliant.” Licking her from her arse to her clit, he listened as she attempted to reply. He teased the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue.

“It was torture for me too.” She gasped. “You’re the bastard who made me jealous with that bitch that came into the cafe.”

“Bella? Yes, she’s a bit much.” He replied, biting her clit gently, applying just enough pressure to make her cry out.

“Did you fuck her?” Hermione grinned. “Is she as good as me?” She continued. Tom let her down, kissing her hard and yanking on her hair.

“I tried everything to get you out of my head, so yes, I fucked her.” He paused as he picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. His slacks would probably be stained. “In every way you can imagine and it was nothing compared to you and the night I met you.”

“I have a rather vivid imagination.” Hermione told him, looping her arms around his neck. Still, there was a tiny bit of her that was livid he’d even touched anyone else. “I did go on that date Ginny mentioned. It was awful, I came home and fucked myself to the thought of you.”

“As much as I would love to watch you play with your little, pink cunt, it will have to be another time. Tonight I am going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to leave this bed.”

“There can’t be a next time, Tom. You said it yourself, that it was only going to be one night.”

He kicked her bedroom door open while she undid his tie, throwing it onto the carpet in the hallway. “And you so kindly reminded me, that it could never be one night. Not with us.” He silenced her protests with a kiss that made her toes curl.

If she were honest, she might admit to wondering what it would be like for Tom to kiss her slowly, his lips soft against hers for a moment before he tossed her into her bed. It was impossible not to giggle as she crawled forward to unbutton his trousers.

“Take off your shirt.” Hermione demanded, tugging his pants down with his boxers. His belt buckle thudded against her floor as she slid to her knees in front of him, reaching to wrap her fingers around his erection.

A groan slipped between his lips as she took him into her mouth, her tongue moving against him slowly. “Too fucking long.” He bit out, his fingers curling into her long hair, and he pulled her forward. She let him fuck her mouth slowly at first until she moaned as the tip of him hit the back of her throat. “On the bed, love.”

Upon his realization that Hermione wasn’t going to willingly move, he stepped away from her. “I didn’t ask, Hermione.”

Rolling her eyes she crawled onto her bed once more, grateful she’d gone for a larger size. He grabbed her by her hips, positioning her on her knees with her back to his chest. His arm wrapped around her chest. “Tom.” She whimpered.

“I won’t give you love declarations, Hermione.” He rasped. “I’ll tell you this however. If you think I will simply walk away, you could not be more wrong.” He guided her to rest on her hands and knees, rolling her nipple between his fingers. “You are mine and I take excellent care of what belongs to me.”

The nerves that had been so coiled so tightly in her stomach melted at his words. Before she could argue that she wasn’t a possession, he began to slide into her so slowly that her fists clenched her bed sheets.

“Oh, fuck. Tom, yes.” She moaned, rocking backwards against him feverishly.

His grip was tight on her hips, stopping her from sliding herself down his length. “Don’t be greedy, Miss Granger. You aren’t in control.”

“Maybe not.” She panted. “But I bet I could make you fuck me harder.” She took his silence as a dare and continued. “When Ron came to Ollivander’s, he had the hope of getting back together.”

Tom froze, pulling out of her cunt and rolling her onto her back. He looked dangerous, a possessive glint in his eyes that told her she’d struck the right nerve.

She landed against the pillows with him spreading her legs, keeping a hold on her calves. “And what did you think of that?” He asked her. “Did it make you happy that your worthless ex boyfriend wanted you back?”

“I thought-”

He arched an eyebrow. “Tell me yes or no, Hermione. You wanted to test my patience, which is extremely thin since you barged into my life three months ago.”

“No.” She answered quietly.

“Does he make you feel like I do? Does he fuck you like I do? Or does he actually hurt you when he attempts to be rough?”

She was breathless as he leaned over her, his fingers wrapping around her throat, applying pressure evenly so she could still breathe. Staring at him, she waited in silence for another question to fall away from him.

“Would you trust him to do this?” His fingers tightened, and she gasped, arching against him.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “Then don’t tease me with the idea that you’d actually take him back. Especially when he couldn’t appreciate you from the start.”

“It might have made me happy before I met you to see what I could be missing.” She said quietly, watching a smug smirk plant itself on his face.

Without a word, he yanked her down the bed and set her legs over his shoulders. He thrust into her, watching as her eyes fluttered shut as she arched into him.

 

* * *

 

  
His alarm went off between six and seven, jarring her awake. She was draped over him, her head laying on his chest with his fingers knotted in her hair. As uncomfortable as it was she couldn’t bring herself to pull away as she crawled over him. Hermione turned the alarm on his phone off, moving to curl into the curve of his body once more.

“Were you hoping I wouldn’t wake up?” Tom asked. His voice was low, thick with sleep as his hand slipped out of her hair and he moved to grip her bare hips. He sat up, putting his back to the headboard while she straddled his waist. “I have time before I need to be at the university.”

Her face fell as she realized once more that this wasn’t her best idea. That this could only end with her hurt in the end. “No,” he told her immediately, tugging her gently forward and brushing his lips against hers. “We will figure it out. There’s only a few weeks of the semester left. And then you will have a different professor.”

She scoffed. “And do you expect me to be after that? Your girlfriend? You don’t strike me as the dating type, Tom.”

Sighing, he cupped the back of her head. “I’m not.” He answered, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth. “However, I believe you might have changed that.”

“It’s impolite to tease.” Hermione said, her nails scraping against his forearms.

“So says the naked woman who is grinding her hips against me.”

Shifting her weight, and adjusting herself, she positioned his cock at the entrance of her cunt. Hermione watched, enthralled by the little bit of power he gave her by allowing her to take control. “Tom.” She breathed, her head rolling back as she slid herself onto him. “How much time did you say you had?”

“I didn’t, but I have enough time to fuck you and make breakfast.” He replied easily, looping his arms around her waist and thrusting into her.

“I,” she broke off, whimpering at the way he handled her. “Could make breakfast. You’re a guest.”

He chuckled darkly, bringing his trimmed nails down her back. “You’ll find that you want to sit down given how sore you’ll be. And I’m not a guest,” He growled. “I’m a permanent fucking fixture.”

“You’re a possessive bastard is what you are.” Hermione bit back.

“I’d suggest you remember that.”

 

  
By the time she’d gotten out of her shower he was already in her kitchen. Leaning up against the door trim, she drank in the sight of him. He was shirtless with a towel slung around his hips. His back was marred by her nails, dark red scratches down his skin. Smirking smugly, she moved behind him, tracing those scratches with the tip of her finger.

“I hadn’t expected you to know how to cook well.” She admitted, peeking around him. “What other secrets are you hiding?”

He snorted. “Oh, nothing big. Just the torture room in my basement.” He turned around, picking her up and setting her on the counter. “Do you have a fetish for wearing my clothes?”

“Are you implying that you don’t like seeing me in your clothes?” Hermione asked, smiling. “Shall I take it off?” She moved to slip her arms from his shirt, but he caught them and held them to her sides.

“If you don’t stop being so distracting, we will never make it to the university on time, Hermione.”

Rolling her eyes, she surrendered. “Tell me how you learned to cook then.”

Tom left her with her legs dangling as he moved to flip both omelettes. “I’ve been living on my own for most of my life, and takeaway was neither affordable nor healthy.”

“Who taught you then?”

His jaw clenched. “No one. I was left to fend for myself. I was raised in an orphanage, and then I received an inheritance from my father when he passed away shortly before I left for university myself.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “Forgive me, I’m sorry I said anything to bring it up.” She kept her eyes on her toes, not willing to see his expression if she’d managed to upset him so quickly.

“It’s fine. You asked me a question, didn’t you? Would you rather I have ignored you?” He looked back at her, his hair deliciously tousled.

“No, I just don’t want to feel like I’ve forced you to tell me something.”

He snorted. “If I didn’t feel comfortable telling you, I wouldn’t have done so. My mother died in childbirth and my father was unaware he had a son.”

“Until he died?”

His eyebrows knit together, and he returned to standing in front of her, slipping in between her thighs. “No,” he began. “He knew when I was ten and decided he wanted nothing to do with me.”

“What?” She gasped. “How could he- If he wasn’t already dead, I’d go find him myself. The nerve of that bastard!” Her eyes widened as he moved her to the edge of the counter, unbuttoning his shirt on her. “What are you doing?”

“I like when you’re feisty like this. Even though it happened twenty years ago.” He smirked, pressing the tip of his finger against her cunt through her knickers.

“He was a despicable man. How could he cast you aside? You were a child.” Hermione argued, swatting his hand away. “Don’t try to distract me with sex. I am starving, you know.”

Tom laughed. “Well, it’s ready. But you can tell me about your parents while we eat. As much as I enjoy hearing you call my dead father a bastard.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. My mother is an absolute witch and my childhood was so boring. I’d put you to sleep if I were to tell you all about it.” Hermione slid off the counter, her heart beating hard in her chest even still at his close proximity.

“Sit down and tell me all about yourself, Miss Granger.” Tom said, setting two plates at her kitchen island.

Her nose wrinkled as she took her seat. “Since we’re sharing stories about our awful parents, Jean Granger is a menace. She always has something to say about everything and it’s almost never good. When I told her I was leaving home to attend a bigger university, I never thought I would hear the end of it. She insisted that I should stay home and that nothing good could come of moving away with Ron and Harry.”

“You lived with the both of them?”

She groaned. “For far too long. We rented a cheap flat that was in the worst neighborhood. There was a burglary in the flat beside us while I was home alone one night. The police thought they meant to break into ours, but of course I was glad they didn’t.

“I’m getting off track, sorry. Mum called me a harlot for moving out with them despite the fact that they have been my best friends since primary.”

He wore an amused smile as he chewed. “What did you tell her?” Tom asked after swallowing.

Hermione smirked, waiting for him to chew his next bite before speaking. “I told her I was moving out for a better education, not so those two could tag team me.”

He choked, his eyes shooting open. “Hell.”

She reached for her fork, cutting off a piece. “We’ve never been close, but she’s not a bad mother. She’s judgemental, and we haven’t spoken since she told me to give Ron another chance.”

“Explain.”

Hermione leaned back on her chair, crossing one of her legs beneath her. “What my mother really wants is not for me to be successful, and well educated. She wants me to be married and to have children she can dote on.”

“Ronald Weasley is still the last person she should want to procreate with her daughter.” He replied, glaring at a space over her shoulder. “I can’t decide if I want to meet this woman to correct her myself or if I’d rather avoid her since she’s clearly-”

Hermione cleared her throat. “She’s of the opinion that I’m undesirable and should have latched onto the first man to show interest.” She finished weakly, looking away from him.

His fist clenched, and his voice was strained. “I’ve decided I’d like to meet her if only to tell her to fuck off. If I were to describe you in one word, it would not be undesirable.”

“What would it be then?”

“It’s not bloody possible to describe you in just one word. I’d start with frustrating.” The corner of his lip twitched upwards at her laugh. “Brilliant, stunning, I could create a list if you’d like.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage without. You should be going so you can change at home. You can’t go to work in the same clothes.”

With a chuckle he stood. “I’ll need my shirt back then.” He slipped it from her shoulders, throwing it over his own and walked towards the bedroom. “I’ll still be talking to Ollivander.”

“Let me know how that goes. I would be surprised if he didn’t fire me today if she shows up.”

“You could always be a teaching assistant for one of my lower level classes.” He offered.

“Sleeping with my professor turned boss? I think not.”

He emerged from her room fully dressed and with his coat folded over his arm. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” He told her quietly before kissing her until she was breathless. “Don’t try running away again.”

She winked. 


	4. Chapter Four

**I would have posted this last night, but AO3 went down as soon as I got it back and I wanted to post it on both websites at the same time. Any mistakes here are my own.**

 

**Newest chapter. Let me know what you think. <3**

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


As she sat in Professor Riddle’s class that morning, her phone wouldn’t stop vibrating in her pocket. Taking a peek at the screen while he’d been focused on, Neville’s less than stellar response, she’d nearly groaned aloud. 

 

Ollivander had called her six times, and her stomach was already sinking. It had been a foolish mistake on her part to treat Tom’s former companion the way she had the day before. Not that she’d had any hope of keeping her job once Tom mentioned that Bella absolutely had it out for her. Still, Hermione had thought she might have had more time to find a replacement job so she wouldn’t fall behind on her rent. 

 

The moment he dismissed the class, she returned the call, leaning against the desk with tears already forming in her eyes. “Hello?” 

 

“Hi, Mr. Ollivander, I’m sorry I couldn’t return your call sooner. I was in class.” She managed to keep her voice steady, hoping that if she remained calm she might be able to wiggle her way out of unemployment. She waved her friends to go on ahead of her, murmuring that she needed to discuss an assignment with their professor as well. 

 

“Yes, Hermione. I received a terrible complaint this morning. Did you assist a woman named Bellatrix Black yesterday?” 

 

Her fingers trembled. “I did, sir.” 

 

“Did you insult her by saying nothing could make her pleasant to be around?” His voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Once the door to his class had been closed, Tom waved for her to follow him into his office. She knelt down, grabbing her bag and followed him. 

 

“I lost my temper, sir. She had insulted me before hand.” 

 

“That’s no way to treat a customer. I think it would be best -” 

 

“Sir, it was not my intention to treat a customer badly. She belittled me, and -” 

 

“Miss Granger, I am not in the habit of employing school children. Not everyone will like you, and I had assumed you were mature enough to accept that. There is no need for you to come in for you shift today. I will forward you your final cheque to the address on file.” 

 

“Fuck.” She muttered, tossing her phone down on Tom’s desk before she sank into the chair in front of it. “That’s that then.” 

 

“Someone will call you about your application.” Tom assured her, leaning against his desk, his hands clasped in his lap. 

 

“Hopefully, but hope isn’t going to pay this month’s rent. Neither is my final wage with the hours that are on it.” Hermione deadpanned, crossing one leg over the other. She sighed. “I should ask Ginny if she’d mind me staying with her.” 

 

He frowned. “Is that necessary though? Hermione, I wouldn’t want you to lose your flat. It wouldn’t be an issue to loan you the money.” Tom spoke softly. 

 

“I’m not asking!” Hermione shrieked, quieting down at his widening eyes. “I’m sorry.” She said, inhaling. “That came out as abrasive. I don’t need a loan from you, especially since I would never be able to pay you back. I will handle this on my own. I’m a perfectly functioning adult.” 

 

“Fucking stubborn is what you are. Fine, it doesn’t have to be a loan. You can take the money with no obligation to repay me.” 

 

Hermione stood, looking behind her to check that the door was locked. “Tom,” she began. “Why would you possibly offer to help? We’re not exactly strangers anymore, but this? Offering a sum that large -” 

 

“I’ve seen your flat. I don’t think it’s going to be a massive loss on my end.” He quipped. 

 

Sighing at the rude way he’d tried to distract her, Hermione skipped over that and continued with what she had been saying. “As I was  _ saying,  _ you wouldn’t offer this to anyone else.” 

 

Tom gripped her hips, and brought her between his legs where he sat on his desk. The tip of his nose brushed against her curls as he inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo. “It seems that we might as well be strangers since you don’t understand what I’ve laid out in front of you. Would I offer to help anyone else? Doubtful, especially if there was nothing to gain for myself.” 

 

She snorted at his bluntness, arching one eyebrow. “Yes, you’re hardly the type of man that does things out of the kindness of his heart.” 

 

“ _ Anyway _ ,” he spoke over her. “I’m not doing it for just anyone; I’m doing it for you, you irritating swot.” 

 

“That was sappy, Tom.” 

 

He rolled his eyes, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If saying sappy things and whispering sweet nothings cause you to give in, I’ll use it as a tactic of getting what I want.” 

 

“No, it doesn’t work. I’ll live with Ginny.” Hermione’s hands were flat against his chest, her fingers sliding between the buttons. “What you could do is take my mind off of all of this. Isn’t this your planning period?” 

 

His fingers dug into her hips. “I’ll change your mind eventually.” 

 

“Be quiet, and hurry. Ginny has probably already figured out that I’m shagging you in your office.” 

 

“No,” he sighed. “I rather think I’d take my time. I believe I told you not to wear knickers to my class anymore, didn’t I?” 

 

She swallowed. “You might have, but I was a bit scatterbrained this morning since  _ someone  _ decided to fuck me into my matress six times last night!”  

 

“Take your knickers off, Miss Granger.” Tom said, taking a seat in his leather office chair and leaning back. “Will you do whatever I ask?” 

 

“Yes.” She whispered, flipping her skirt up and sliding the thong down her legs. “What would you have me do?” 

 

“I want you on your knees with my cock hitting the back of your throat.” He told her, watching with a smug smirk as she sank to her knees in front of his parted legs. She reached for his belt, and then the button on his trousers. 

 

With her eyes wide, the perfect look of innocence on her face, she leaned forward and pulled his zipper down with her teeth, pulling his boxers down as well. His heavy erection sprang free and the tip of her tongue slid against her pale pink lips as she wrapped her hand around the base before giving the head of his cock a tentative lick. 

 

“God.” He growled, winding his fingers into her hair as she took the tip of him between her lips, swirling her tongue around it, slowly moving her hand up and down. “You’re so pretty on your knees for me. Does it make your pussy drip that someone could walk in here and see you on your knees?” 

 

Her moan was her only reply as she took him farther into her hot mouth. 

 

“Would you stop if someone did? Or would you suck my cock like the little slut you like to be for me?” Another whimper, but her eyes fluttered shut. “Would you like to know what I think? I think you like the thrill of getting caught, of knowing this is risky, but you’ll still let me fuck you over my desk. You’ll still beg for me.” 

 

Hermione was taking nearly all of him now, her head bobbing up and down as her tongue worked against him. It was the light caress to his sac that nearly made him come in her mouth. With a heavy groan, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her away. 

 

“Sit on the desk and spread your legs.” He ordered, kneeling in front of her. His tongue slid between her folds, flicking her clit, “Hermione, you cannot come. For any reason.” 

 

“What the fuck do you mean I can’t -” 

 

“Consider it a punishment for going against me when I want to help you. I’ll take you to the edge over and over again, but you are not allowed to come. Not on my tongue, or my cock.” 

 

“I’ll come from your voice if you don’t bloody quit.” She paused, and then brought her legs together, kicking him away. “Actually, I’ll take care of myself.” She hissed. Hermione’s hips swayed as she made her way over to the sofa against the wall. “I hardly need your help.” 

 

“Hermione,” he warned. 

 

“No.” She challenged him. “I’ll lay here and rub my clit until I come over my fingers. I won’t beg you to help me.” She settled against the soft cushions after pulling her shirt over her head, unclasping her bra and bringing her knees up. “Didn’t you say you wanted to see me do this?”

 

Tom said nothing, but he took two strides to reach her, grabbed her and her back hit the wall. “You’re not going to be in charge, Miss Granger. You want me to fuck you? I’ll fuck you until you’re begging me to  _ stop. _ ” 

 

She rolled her eyes. “Unlikely.” 

 

“Then bend over the arm of the couch and we’ll see how rough you can take me.” Hermione swallowed at his words, and did exactly what he said. She placed her palms flat against the cushions. “Oh, no. That won’t do.” 

 

She found her arms held behind her back, her wrists gripped in one of his hands. Tom slammed into her mercilessly, and her legs nearly gave out. “Tom,” she whimpered. 

 

“I’m going to let go of your arms, but I want them to stay exactly where they are. Do you understand?” At her nod, he gripped her hair and pulled on it, listening to her whimper so sweetly while he pumped into her. “Be quiet, or we’ll be caught.” 

 

“I’m trying!” She sobbed. Each time he slammed into her, she was so goddamn sensitive she was sure she wouldn’t be able to take anymore. 

 

“Would you like for me to slow down now?” He asked her, his thumb massaging the tight ring of her arse. 

 

She shook her head, stubborn and angry. “I can take whatever you can give me. If you can give it to me harder, that would be even better.” Tom was right, her mouth was going to get her into trouble. She anticiated his reaction when  he pulled out of her and laid her on the floor before spreading her trembling legs. 

 

Tom didn’t say a goddamn  _ word _ before he lifted them  onto his shoulders and thrust into her. He pushed her legs back so that they were nearly beside her head, as he created a fast tempo that had him bottoming out inside of her each time. “Your cunt is so fucking tight when it’s wrapped around my cock. This is where you belong, isn’t it? Tell me, Hermione.”

 

She nodded, gasping for air as her toes fucking curled. “This is where I belong. Under you, on top of you, on my knees, just  _ with you _ -OH.” She came with a small whimper when his hand came down over her mouth. 

 

‘Going to fucking fill you,” he growled, and she shattered so prettily for him like she always did. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


“Tell me  _ everything _ .” Ginny demanded before Hermione could even take a seat on the bench. “Don’t you dare give me that look, Hermione Jean. I know exactly what you got up to in his office.” 

 

Her curls tangled as she looked around her quickly. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “Nothing had happened until last night. I didn’t hide anything from you.” 

 

“You sure didn’t call me this morning to tell me you fucked him again either!” Ginny accused hotly. “I’m not really mad, so I’ll quit. What are you doing with him? This has to be the worst idea you’ve ever had.” 

 

Hermione’s bag hit the concrete. “I don’t know, but I do know that I just got fired. It’s his fault. He brought some woman into Ollivanders yesterday and she was a raging bitch, and I lost my temper. That was Ollivander firing me when Tom had me come into his office.” 

 

“Fuck, Hermione, he’s not going to be good for you. You wouldn’t have lost your job if it weren’t for him.” Ginny crossed her legs, sitting sideways on the bench. “I can already see that I can’t change your mind.” 

 

“I’m going to lose my flat because I won’t be able to pay the rent this month. Would it be okay for me to stay in your guest room until I have enough to get another place?” 

 

“As if you even have to ask! Harry wouldn’t want you to go anywhere else either.” 

 

“Tom offered to pay my rent just now.” 

 

Ginny screamed. “You’re joking.” 

 

Hermione shook her head. “We argued about it. He wanted me to take it without the obligation to pay him back, but I kept turning him down.” 

 

Wide eyed, Ginny stared at her open mouthed. “That’s….that’s something else, Hermione. I understand why you’d refuse his help of course, but maybe he isn’t so bad for you after all.” 

 

Hermione snorted. “Immediately after he wouldn’t let me come until I agreed with him.” 

 

A strangled noise came from her friend. “Yet you still told him no.” 

 

“I’ve known him for four months, and three of those months were spent learning about the finer elements of law while pretending I haven’t,” Hermione broke off. “I’m not going to bother finishing that sentence.” 

 

“Come on,” Ginny whined, “tell me just how good Professor Riddle is in bed. You always tell me it’s none of my business.” 

 

“It is none of your business.” 

 

“So? You could still tell me how big his cock is, or how well he is at -” 

 

“I’ll pack my stuff tonight.” Hermione said conversationally, ignoring Ginny. “Not to mention I don’t need to tell you how big it is, you’ve seen the pictures he’s sent.” 

 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Fine, but let me ask one question that you have to answer. Is he dominant?” 

 

Hermione hesitated. “We don’t have a BDSM relationship so no, he’s not my Dominant. Is one of his many character traits dominance?” She asked out loud, and then nodded. 

 

“Tell me the first thing that pops into your head. What’s the hottest thing he’s ever done?” 

 

“That’s two questions, but whatever. The night we met he took me home and when I was on my knees, he led me across the floor. Granted I was too fucking drunk to get back on my feet anyway, but he had a hold of my hair while I was crawling towards him.” 

 

Ginny blinked twice. “How the fuck did you sit in front of him all of these months without ruining your knickers?” 

 

Hermione grinned. “He texted me and told me not to wear them. So I didn’t, and I flashed him too.” 

 

* * *

  
  


Packing up her entire flat would take most of the time she had left in the building. Hermione had called her landlord immediately after her last class, explaining that she had lost her job and would be moving out by the first of December. 

 

The elderly woman had asked if an extension would do her any good. There were no guarantees that she’d find a job in the short time span, and since she outright refused the help of both Tom and Harry, she was calling it quits. At least for this flat. 

 

Her eyes watered as she threw her bag onto the sofa and leaned against it. This was her home, one that she’d found by chance and at a ridiculous price. Her rent was half what should have been given the appliances and furniture that they had supplied. 

 

Deciding that it would be easier if she kept herself busy she began to pull the clothes she wouldn’t need out of the closet, keeping them on their hangers and tying garbage bags around them. Then she found all of the boxes she could, and packed away her belongings from the top of her dresser; her jewelry box, several photos, stationary and the like. 

 

She worked to the music playing from her cell phone, flitting around her bedroom without noticing that it had vibrated several times. And she didn’t stop until most of her clothes and various belongings were packed away, but the only reason she bothered to was due to someone pounding on her door. 

 

The carpet was soft against the soles of her feet as she stormed down the hallway. Throwing the door open, she opened her mouth to yell at whoever was on the other side of the door. Until she came face to face with Tom, who only arched an eyebrow. “Out of breath?” He questioned. 

 

“I’ve been busy,” she replied, stepping back and letting the door swing open. “You should have let me know you were coming at least. I could have made us something to eat.” Hermione took the bag of takeaway from his hands, walking towards the kitchen island. 

 

“If you’d bothered to check your phone you’d see that I had called ahead.” Tom stood at the end of her couch, peeling off his suit jacket. “Are you hungry?” 

 

“Not really,” she replied, “I just want to get everything packed up so I can pretend this isn’t happening.” 

 

“That,” he scolded, “hardly sounds healthy.” 

 

Hermione gave a shrug of her shoulders. “No, it isn’t, but none of this is fair. This is my home and I would still have it if it weren’t for that loathsome woman.” 

 

“I could..” 

 

“Don’t try to pay my rent again, Tom. I already told my landlord that I would be out by the end of the month.” She smiled at the glare he shot her way. “Ginny knows about us by the way. She wasn’t on your side until I told her what you offered to do.” 

 

“It’s for purely selfish reasons,” Tom told her, taking long strides until he reached her and wrapped one of her tangled curls around his fingers. “If you’re living with her and her boyfriend, I can’t exactly drop in to surprise you.” 

 

Her lips curved into a smile as she looked up at him. “Oh? Well, you will be pleased to learn that Harry is the most oblivious person I’ve ever met. So you can just sneak in through the fire escape and he’ll never know that my ‘Tom’ is our professor.” 

 

“Ah, yes, I just love being a dirty little secret.” 

 

Hermione scoffed. ‘You certainly don’t get to complain since you don’t mind at all. It’s me who doesn’t like it.” 

 

“The semester will end in a month and a half. Then you’ll have a different professor, one that doesn’t fantasize about bending you over his desk.” 

 

“You don’t know that. Maybe he will be so attractive that I can’t possibly resist. I’ve heard Professor Lockhart has slept with his students.” Hermione couldn’t hold in her laugh at the furious look that crossed his face. 

 

“There is some merit to those rumors. What those girls didn’t tell you was that he’s an awful lover.” 

 

“How would you know that?” 

 

“There was a staff Christmas party last year. Gilderoy can’t hold his booze and drank enough firewhiskey to end up in a closet with Sprout. I’m sure most of the staff, save him, knows how it was “the worst experience of her life.”” 

 

“Poor Gilderoy.” She pouted, looping her arms around Tom’s neck. “Maybe he just needs a teacher.” 

 

“Have you ever been spanked, Miss Granger?” At her shaking head he added, “Unless you’d like to be, I’d shut that mouth of yours.” 

 

She pulled one arm back to swat him on the chest. 

 

“Since you’re not hungry, mind if I help you pack?” 

 

“That would be perfect. I’ve almost finished my bedroom.” She grabbed his hand and led him down the hallway. “Okay, would you start on that- Tom!” She shrieked as his arms locked around her waist and he tossed her onto the bed. “You said you’d help.” 

 

“And I will, but later,” he grinned, climbing over her and parting her legs with his knee. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I had you in my office.” 

 

Hermione whimpered as he pressed his hand against her cunt through her athletic shorts. “You mean when you tried not letting me come, you bastard?” 

 

“I thought you’d break and agree with me. It didn’t work.” He leaned down. “You were so fucking gorgeous though. Sitting there on my desk naked,” 

 

“You _ kept _ my knickers, you animal.” Hermione interrupted, twisting her arms around his neck. 

 

Tom pulled her up, tearing her shirt over her head and unclasping her bra with a flick of his fingers. Sliding one arm under her, he rolled her on top of him, and took one nipple between his teeth. 

 

She gasped, grinding against his erection that was already protruding from his slacks. “I can take a break.” Hermione managed to get out. 

 

His tongue swiped across her nipple while he pinched the other. “Should I let you come?” He murmured. 

 

“I’m not going to agree with you.” She growled, gripping his hair as her back arched. “If that’s what you’re here for you should just -” 

 

“I’m  _ here  _ to make you come as many times as humanly possible.” He bit out, releasing her and watching her undo the button of his trousers. 

 

“Miss me?” She asked cheekily, eyeing his prominent erection and dragging his pants down his legs before throwing them into the floor. “Who knew that  _ Tom Riddle,  _ Mister Never Shows Emotion, could miss anyone?” 

 

“You could do more with your mouth then mock me, you know,” He told her dryly, as she climbed into his lap, leaning over him and unbuttoning his shirt. “Yes, I missed you. I’ll deny it to anyone else.” 

 

She threw her head back laughing. “Good enough for me.” Whimpering as he stroked her clit softly, she clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Tom.” Hermione moaned. “Please, skip the foreplay.” 

 

He grinned, two fingers slipping inside of her, watching her spasm. “Skipping the foreplay would hardly be the act of a gentleman.”

 

Hermione hooked her legs around his waist, succeeding in rolling him onto his back and straddling his waist. Of course, she’s only succeeded because he wanted her to. “You are not a gentleman, Tom,” She hissed. “Maybe a smug bastard.” 

 

“You really shouldn’t call your boyfriend a bastard so often. It’s offensive.” 

 

She snorted, completely unladylike and rolled her eyes. “Oh, fuck  _ off. _ ” His grip on her hips was rough while he guided her.

 

Tom didn’t give her the satisfaction of impaling herself in his cock. Instead he lifted his hips and thrust into her hard. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he growled. 

 

Hermione shrieked, her palms slapping against her headboard as she fell forward. “Definitely a bastard,” she laughed, finding her balance again and leaning back up. “Would you stop and let me do the work?” 

 

Tom stilled. 

 

“You don’t have to be so,” she began but he covered her mouth with his hand. 

 

“Were you expecting anyone?” He asked but she shook her head. 

 

A muffled, “I wasn’t expecting you either.” 

 

“Sarcastic swot.” The doorknob to her bedroom door began to turn and Tom threw her onto the right side of the bed, sneaking under the black sheets completely. 

 

“You couldn’t knock?” Hermione yelled, the sheets being pulled slightly for her to cover her naked body. “Or I don’t know, not use your spare key?” 

 

Harry was barely unable to hold back his laughter as Ginny stood wide eyed beside him, her eyes darting from Hermione’s tousled hair to the shapeless form of the man she knew to be in her bed. 

 

“Why would you give me a key to your flat if you didn’t want me to use it?” Harry asked, smirking and looking over her room. “Weren’t you supposed to be packing?”

 

“The spare was for emergencies! And we were. Well, I was but he had other ideas. Ouch!” She reached down to massage her calf when Tom kicked her. 

 

“Well, I suppose we’ll just be going then,you obviously don’t need our help” Harry chuckled. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

“Sod off.” She sighed in relief when the door shut and waited to hear her front door close too. “I thought he was going to tear the blanket off to see who you were,” Hermione said, peeling the sheet back. 

 

Tom’s eyes were closed, but he nodded. “That would have been very bad for us,” he admitted. “All the more reason for you to stay here instead of moving in with them. I wouldn’t count on him to keep our secret, just like I don’t think his girlfriend will be able to keep it from him forever. Secrets are detrimental to a relationship.” 

 

She just glared at him. “Do you really want to talk about secrets?” 

 

“It’s another month,” he deadpanned. “We’ll get through it.” 

 

“And we can get through being a little more careful until I have a flat of my own again.” 

 

“You could stay with me until then. If you wanted to.” 

 

She froze. “That’s a very generous offer, but I’d rather not.” 

 

He shrugged. “Let it be known that when I have to sneak in to see you that I’ll spend the majority of my time trying to make you scream.” 

 

“The  _ majority  _ of my time is spent studying, or working.” 

  
  
  


After the mood had been effectively destroyed by Harry storming into her flat, they finished packing up her bedroom. All that was left was her bed and a stack of clothes to get her through the week. He thought she should take advantage of her last month in the building, but she found knowing she would have to leave only made her more depressed. 

 

Tom had quickly and efficiently packed the kitchen, labeling the boxes and wrapping her grandmother's glassware in hand towels. 

 

Upon opening the bottom cabinet she hung her head. It was an absolute mess with the cords to her blow dryer, straightener and curling irons tangled together. Hermione grumbled under her breath and just grabbed all of them at once, tossing them into the box. She’d deal with the mess later. 

 

Besides that, there was hardly anything to pack away. A package of hair ties were thrown into the box, an unopened package of bobby pins, and a new package of toilet paper. Oh well, she could give it to Harry and Ginny. 

 

“Kitchen is done.” Tom said. 

 

Hermione jumped, still bent over inside the cabinet, and slammed the back of her head into the wood. “Bloody hell,” she slurred, wincing from biting her tongue. “I bit my tongue.” She tried to say. 

 

Tom took her by her shoulders, dragging her across the floor with the help of the carpet that slid underneath her easily. “You scare too easily. Do you jump every time the fire escape creaks due to the wind?” 

 

Hermione smirked. “There’s a good chance I do. I also hate thunderstorms.” 

 

He sighed, but a smile toyed at the edge of his lips. Not that he let her see a genuine smile. “Of course you are. Are you afraid of things you could easily kill by stepping on, like spiders?” 

 

“Evil little bastards, if you ask me. There’s a can of pest spray in nearly every room. I’m terrified of them. Don’t ever mention it to Ron or Harry. They’ve never let me live it down. I told you how we lived together. When Ron refused to kill this ghastly beast-it was nearly as big as my palm- I took matters into my own hands. There was a lighter and hairspray involved as well.” 

 

Tom snorted. “Then I suppose this would be a dreadful time to tell you there’s one of those pests you  _ adore  _ so much right near the top of your pretty head.” 

 

Hermione blinked, her eyes widening when she registered his words. He’d been prepared for the high pitched shriek that tumbled from her mouth, but not for the moment she flung her arms around his neck and jumped into his lap. There was a thud as his head knocked against the door frame, and he gripped her hips tightly, holding her to his chest. 

 

“You had better kill it!” She demanded, swatting his chest. “Tom? Hey! Why are you laughing at me?” Her eyebrows knitted together as he shook against her, laughing without restraint. “There was never a spider at all, was there?” 

 

“No, there wasn’t, but it was worth your reaction. How do you feel about snakes?”

 

“I’d rather hold a snake than a spider.” She declared, climbing off of him. Though he tried to keep her where he liked her. “Stop that,” she chastised, “we’ll never get any work done if you keep trying to shag me.” 

 

He frowned. “Well, it’s not as if you’ll allow me to take you anywhere. With no one around, I can’t control myself.” 

 

She rolled her eyes. “I never said you couldn’t take me somewhere. You’ve never asked me. If it were out of sight where we weren’t going to be seen, I wouldn’t be opposed.” 

 

Tom laid on her bathroom floor, while Crookshanks entered the room and strutted around him, and closed his eyes. “What do you have in mind?” 

 

“Somewhere expensive, obviously.” Her curls tumbled over her shoulders as she leaned forward, laughing when his eyebrows shot up. “Not because I’m materialistic, but because college students are typically broke. They wouldn’t be in an establishment like that.” 

 

He hummed. “I’ll work something out then. Would you wear something that I picked for you?” 

 

She shrugged. “I get the impression that you’ll convince me regardless, so I will make it easy and concede. To you choosing my attire, not my living arrangements.” 

 

“So insolent,” he muttered. 

  
  



	5. Chapter Five

  
  


The end of November came quickly. Ron, sans Lavender finally to Hermione’s relief, Harry and Ginny met at her flat. Looking around with her life put completely in boxes, she felt nostalgic for times that had barely slipped out of her grasp. 

 

It hadn’t taken long for the four of them to carry all of the boxes to the elevator, making several trips to load them into Harry’s car. At least, it hadn’t taken as long as it would have to do it by herself. At one point Ginny has asked, loudly, whose handwriting it was on the boxes from the kitchen, her bedroom, and the hallway closet. It wasn’t a surprise that said handwriting belonged to the professor Harry and Ron saw at least three times a week, but it still went unnoticed. 

 

A pair of oblivious idiots. 

 

Her now former landlord still said she would save the flat for her for a while, claiming Hermione was the best tenant she’d had in some twenty years. And that she was quiet, save for one night that the television had been turned up to load and God help her, she should really tone it down if she didn’t want her neighbors to get the wrong ideas. 

 

Ginny snorted at these implications and elbowed Hermione in the ribs. Hermione didn’t mention that the night was the night her boyfriend came over, and promptly fucked her in so many positions she’d lost count. 

 

It didn’t seem like the statement that would go over well with her eighty year old, I-Have-A-Bad-Heart, landlady. 

 

The spare room at her friends’ flat had dark walls. Tom called it positively dreary the first time he snuck in. She’d called him valiant after he lost a trainer in the fire escape and he scowled at the adjective. 

 

She made sure to keep the door locked whenever she was expecting him and also when she wasn’t. It had only taken one time for Harry to come into her bedroom while Tom was under the sheets going down on her. 

 

Tonight though, he was lounging on the bed with her while she poured over her notes. Raindrops beat against the double pane windows, which were locked shut and the drapes closed. Leave it to Harry to get curious and attempt to see who the secret man in her life was. The mystery was killing both of her male friends. 

 

“If only all of my students took such well detailed notes.” He mused quietly, resting his chin on his hand. Hermione flipped the page, scribbling another note in her spiral notebook, drawing a box around it. “I’ve thought of a place to take you if the offer still stands.” 

 

Hermione tilted her head. “You were serious?” She asked brightly. “I thought you’d forgotten really, or weren’t serious at all.” 

 

“I didn’t forget within a week.” He grumbled under his breath. “And why wouldn’t I want to take you somewhere?” 

 

She shrugged, a gesture he’d noted meant she did know, but was embarrassed to admit. “Is it so childish for me to admit there might have been a fear that I was only something to pass your time?” 

 

“I won’t answer that since it would offend you, but if you were just a play thing I wouldn’t come over to watch you study. And before you ask me why I do that, it’s because you’re always fascinating. Regardless, I’ve thought of something I think you’d prefer and that I think would be perfect.” 

 

“When?” 

 

“Do you have plans this Saturday night?” 

 

“Yes.” Hermione looked back down at her notebook. “I could use a break, what about you?” She grinned, sliding her notebook off of the bed. “I really need to take a shower. I have a job interview in the morning.” 

 

“Well, I hope you weren’t planning on being well rested.” Tom rolled her onto her back, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them down her legs. “Where is the interview?” 

 

Hermione lifted her hips, propping herself up on her elbows as he dragged her knickers down her legs with his teeth. “A book store, actually. Flourish and Blotts, have you heard of it?” 

 

“I know the owner rather well.” 

 

“Don’t you dare phone him in the morning and tell him ‘Oh, you must simply hire this Hermione Granger! Mostly because I need her to move into her own flat again so I can fuck her senseless.’” She imitated him, pinching the bridge of her nose for added effect. 

 

“Is it really so much to ask that I don’t have to climb a fire escape three stories to see my girlfriend?” He growled, but he smirked at her reaction to her newest title. 

 

It was stupid, she told herself. Here she was, now twenty six years old, and the word  _ boyfriend _ made her giddy with excitement. Okay, it was really only because the word was now associated with Tom, who the word didn’t seem to fit. 

 

“And I don’t sound like that.” 

 

She giggled. “Tell me more about this date you’ve planned,” Hermione leaned up to whisper in his ear, her lips barely touching the shell of his ear. “Professor Riddle.” She grinned in triumph at the sheer shock that settled on his face. “If that weren’t my reality, it would be really hot.” 

 

“It’s still fucking hot,” Tom bit the inside of her thigh. “And you take every chance you can to say it to me, to argue with me in class. You, Miss Granger, enjoy provoking me.” He nipped her other thigh, continuing until he was  _ almost there _ and then he skipped over her sensitive folds, choosing to lightly blow on her clit instead. 

 

“Bastard.” She whined, letting her back hit the mattress and her head hang over the side of the bed. “Too true though, I love provoking you. I always enjoy what happens next.” 

 

“You’d be smart to keep that mouth of yours shut.” 

 

“Really? I always thought you preferred it open. Lips parted while I’m on my knees.  _ Also _ , I believe I told you to make me regret it the night we met, and you never did.” 

 

“Fucking Christ. I’m not complaining about your failed relationships, but I don’t understand how any man has ever let you go if you talk like that.” 

 

“Like what?” She laughed. “Like a slut?” She guessed, placing her palms against the carpet and falling off the bed as gracefully as she could. “I’m not offended if you put it that way, but you’re the only one who has seen this side to me. I’ve had two boyfriends Tom. Viktor was lovely. Kind, and very gentle. Not that sensuality is the least bit boring, but I didn’t want tender lovemaking every time.” 

 

“Hm.” Tom mused, looking altogether unhappy that she could still recall her previous experiences. 

 

“He wasn’t so great at being rough. Ron though,” she shook her head. “I’m still certain it was the worst idea I’d ever had to tell him I wanted to try..rougher things.” 

 

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was tight, and his hands curled into fists. 

 

“By mistake.” She answered, crossing her legs from her spot on the floor. “As I’m quite sure you’re aware, I enjoy being choked. It was an accident, calm down!” She told him, rolling her eyes as his eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. “Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you. I got off track, and it’s not like I would like to hear your past sexual exploits.” 

 

“I’m an adult, Hermione. I can hear about your former sex life because I know that I’ve left you satiated each time. Tell me what Weasley did.” 

 

Hermione shook her head. “Whatever you say. Don’t fail him just because,” 

 

“I have no worries there. He will do that himself, I’m sure.” 

 

Hermione glared at him, glancing down at the carpet before continuing. “Well, he was on top of me, and it was a clumsy thing really. You see, he slipped.” 

 

“He slipped?” Tom echoed in disbelief. “While he was choking you?” 

 

She nodded. “Yeah, landed right on top of me, but the real problem was he tried to catch himself, and well.. You get the picture, don’t you?”

 

“Vividly.” He said sourly. 

 

“We didn’t try anything like that again. It was only a matter of time before he cheated on me.” Hermione gave a small shrug. “He’s a better friend than he is a boyfriend. I’m glad it didn’t work out, but I could have done without the guilt that I’d done something wrong.” He looked as if he were about to say something, but she cut him off by raising her hand and crooking her finger. “Any sordid relationships in your past?” 

 

Tom pulled his jumper over his head, leaving his chest bare as he sent a withering look her way. “Hardly. I’ve never been the type who did well in a committed relationship. Most of my experiences have boiled down to  one night stands, or the occasional fuck buddy.” 

 

“Bella?” She sneered, taking his hand and he pulled her to her feet. “Wherever did you find that wretched woman? She wouldn’t have sat foot in a club like you were in.” 

 

He smirked. “Well, I did tell you I wasn’t a nice person, didn’t I? Her  _ husband  _ is on the board of directors for the University.” 

 

Hermione’s eyes widened. “You fucked someone’s wife?  _ Repeatedly? _ ” Swatting his hands away when he bent towards her, she stepped away. “No, wait. If you think cheating is acceptable, i think we should really,” 

 

He cut her off with a rough kiss, her back slamming against the wall. “I don’t condone cheating. I thought your reaction would be amusing. Her husband gets off on watching her fuck other men.” 

 

Hermione choked in disbelief. “And you were only too happy to oblige, weren’t you?” 

 

Tom could only snort. She was naked against him and all she could think about was irritating him. Figures. “Well, the woman I wanted shot me down so what was I to do? Tuck my cock between my legs and pine after you?” 

 

Her nose wrinkled. “I could never imagine you pining after anyone. I’m not a jealous person, really. She’s just…” 

 

“Loathsome. Forget about her.” He reached for the door knob behind her, pushing the bathroom door open and pulling her inside. She was all too happy to forget as he turned on the shower, letting it warm up while he set her atop the counter. Until he brought the dreaded woman back up again. “You’re better than her, you know. In looks and in intelligence.” 

 

Heat rose up on her cheeks while she looked down. “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.” 

 

He groaned. “Everything about you is so opposite of me. I have never wanted to dole out compliments as much as I do with you. Likely because you always look at the ground as if you were a wounded dog. Hermione, whoever has told you otherwise is wrong.” 

 

“This is too serious, Tom. We’re meant to be enjoying ourselves and the hot water will run out soon. I know I’m moderately attractive. Does that make you feel better?” 

 

“No,” he settled between her thighs, the cloth covered bulge pressed against her cunt. “I understand what it is that you think you see. Caused by a lifetime with your mother, but might you listen to what I see?” 

 

“Absolutely not! You need to get in that shower, and we will enjoy,” 

 

“Hermione, I’m going to enjoy myself immensely.” His cheerfulness surprised her as he took a step away from her. Tom turned the shower off. “Though you’ll definitely need a shower unless you want to smell like sex for your interview.” The corner of his mouth lifted as he led her across her bedroom. 

 

He held her by the hips, positioning her in front of the oval mirror that was the same height as her. Tom sat on the floor, using his foot to tilt the mirror down towards them. She sat between his legs looking at him in the mirror. 

 

“Why does this feel like a session with a therapist?” 

 

“Would you tell me what you don’t like about yourself? If there’s anything?” Tom asked her, pressing a soft kiss to her neck. 

 

She was aware that this wasn’t his usual behavior, but it was a pleasant surprised. Still, she rolled her eyes like she did all too often. “I see, because it is a therapist session.” 

 

_ “Hermione.”  _

 

“Fine, fine. I don’t like my tits.” She said crudely, lifting them with her hands. “The right one-God, this is so stupid-is larger than the left. It bothers me.” 

 

Larger hands knocked hers away and grasped her breasts. “I had never noticed.” Tom told her, watching her reaction in the mirror. 

 

“Is this the part that you tell me they’re perfect the way they are?” 

 

“I will never lie to you. Now that you’ve pointed it out, I can see the difference. It doesn’t matter to me. When you’re riding my cock, and your tits are bouncing while you’re above me, do you think I’m trying to look for faults?” 

 

“Well, no.” She answered. “You asked,” 

 

“I did, and now I’ll tell you what I like. Your tits are soft in my hands, the perfect size really.” Hermione slumped against his chest as his index finger stroked her nipple until it hardened into a perfect point. 

 

“They’re too big.” She complained. Perhaps it was vain, but what did she care? He did ask. “I look like an old woman whenever I take my bra off.” 

 

He chuckled. “No, you definitely don’t. The only women whose breasts are still perky have either had a procedure, or they didn’t have very much to begin with.” 

 

“That’s still not a bad thing.” She mumbled. “To have a small chest.” 

 

“I didn’t say it was. Do you want to have a procedure done? Does it bother you so much?” He watched her carefully, but nothing betrayed what she was thinking. “Forgive the cliche, but I do think you’re lovely the way you are. If a procedure was what you wanted,” 

 

“You’d what?” Hermione burted. “Pay for it? Tom, that’s insane.”

 

Another laugh. “It’s not the first or last time I’ve been called that. You will find that there’s not much I wouldn’t do to make you a bit happier. It’s not as if I’m ever going to use all of the money that was left to me. Is there anything else that you dislike?” 

 

“It’s dumb, and not sexual, so nothing else.” She murmured. 

 

“Out with it, love. This is a trust exercise of sorts.” 

 

“I don’t like my fingers. They’re short like a child’s.” 

 

Tom chuckled, and she elbowed him in the ribs. “Well, I don’t know how I could help with that. They’re quite cute though.” 

 

“Well, now that I’m thoroughly embarrassed,” 

 

“Ah, ah. We’re nowhere near done. I still have all the things to tell you that I like.” He was grinning, his finger tracing lazy circles around her nipple. “Let’s start here.” He murmured in her ear tugging on her hair with his other hand. “You’re brilliant. A wonderful conversationalist whom I’m never bored around. Intelligence is very sexy. And then your hair, which is just as wild as you are.” Wrapping several strands of it around his fist he pulled her hair harder, her head falling against his shoulder as his palm settled against her throat. 

 

“And your throat is one of the best spots for my hand, choking you while you’re begging me for more.” 

 

She whimpered. “Harder.” She whispered and a gasp fell from her lips. 

 

He obliged her only for a moment before his hand loosened, massaging the spot lightly. “We’ve been over it, but humor me.” He held her breasts in his hands, squeezing them lightly. “I will never be able to get enough of your tits, Hermione. They are stunning. And these,” his thumbs stroked her nipples. 

 

She moaned, her back arching as she leaned into his touch. “Tom.” 

 

Continuing, he slid his hands down her stomach. “Whenever I’m kissing down your tight, little body, I love dragging my tongue down your stomach.” Tom’s voice was low in her ear. “I can always taste the sweat off of you while you’re begging me. What are you saying when you beg, Hermione?” 

 

“Please, Tom. Please just a little lower. Fuck me with your tongue. Lick my clit, please.” Hermione panted as his fingers slid under the waistband of her knickers. “Fuck, baby, please.” 

 

“Baby?” His laugh was dark. “I can’t say I’ve ever been called that before.” 

 

She glared at him. “Well, it just slipped out.” Hermione snapped. “I could call you a bastard-oh holy  _ fuck _ .” She whimpered as two fingers sunk inside of her cunt and she grinded against his hand. 

 

“You pretty, little pussy is next.” He continued in her ear. “Another part of you I’ll never be able to get enough of, the way it tastes on my tongue, the way it clenches around my hard cock. Open your eyes, Hermione. Look at yourself. Tell me what you see.” 

 

He watched her open her eyes, her body sagging against him as her eyes widened. “I see you, with far too many clothes on.” 

 

“Hermione, be my good girl and answer the question how you’re supposed to.” Tom drawled, withdrawing his fingers and rubbing slow circles over her sensitive clit. 

 

“I see myself laying against you, completely naked and with my legs spread while your hand is between them.” She said quietly. “I think you have a fetish for mirrors, Tom.” 

 

He chuckled next to her ear, fingers clutching her sides while he inserted one finger inside of her. “I have a fetish for making you know exactly who is control.”

 

She shuddered against him. “Right.” Hermione whimpered. “And that’s you.” 

 

“Naturally,” he murmured, his fingers curling inside of her while she whined. Loudly. 

 

“Keep it down in there!” A voice that definitely belonged to her ex boyfriend shouted. 

 

She sniggered into her hand. “Tom, stop it.” 

 

He nipped where her neck met her shoulder. “Absolutely not, I’ll fuck you right here until you’re screaming.” 

 

“You can’t, he’d probably break the door down.” But he bent her forward, spanking her arse so hard that her friends must have heard the audible slap. “It’s your job to hold your screams in, Hermione.”   

 

He yanked her hair, forcing her to look up and watch herself in the mirror. Tom lined the head of his cock with her entrance before plunging into her. 

 

“FUCK.” She shrieked, grabbing at the carpet and shaking against him. 

 

“Oi.” Ron shouted again, followed by a sharp pounding on her bedroom door. “No one needs to hear that.” 

 

“I can’t fucking help it, fuck,” she griped, slumping against the carpet as he slammed into her, his fingers gripping her so tightly there would be bruises. 

 

“You were supposed to be quiet, you little slut.” He told her. “I thought you could be good, but if not,” he slowly pulled out. 

 

“Fuck, I will be so fucking good, please.” It was loud, and crude and not at all her, but her words worked. 

 

Gripping her hair he slammed into her relentlessly while she muffled herself with the back of her palm. She was exhausted as he rubbed her clit harshly, pushing her into a hard orgasm. “God,” she choked. 

 

“I’m going to go before one of them figures out how to pick a lock.” He told her quietly when they’d both come down. “I will see you tomorrow.” 

 

“Okay,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his. “Are you positive you don’t want to stay and help me shower?” 

 

He chuckled. “I actually have assignments to grade that have been piling up. Send me pictures though.” Dropping a kiss to her forehead, he stood and straightened his clothes. 

 

“Right. I’m going to get something to eat first, and do the walk of shame in front of my two friends plus my ex boyfriend.” 

 

Tom smirked before slipping out of her window, and starting his way down the fire escape. 

 

Taking a look in the mirror she let her hair down to hide the marks on her neck and dressed quickly. Grabbing her knickers and bra. Hermione pulled a clean pair of joggers from her closet and a university jumper. 

 

Padding down the corridor, and past the dozens of photographs adorning the walls, she rounded a corner into the kitchen. 

 

Her smile was wiped from her face as she came face to face with her mother, who stood in front of the kitchen island with her arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t believe I raised you to have a mouth like that.” 

 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you raised me  _ at all _ .” She shot back. “And I’m not going to apologize for enjoying my life and having enthusiastic sex with my boyfriend.” 

 

Ron choked on his saliva. 

 

“You enjoy acting like a ‘little slut’ then?” Jean slapped her hand down on the island. 

 

She was going to strangle Riddle. Maybe. Hermione said nothing, grabbing a bag of chips from beside the fridge and stormed out the door, slamming it behind her. Leaving the rest of them in silence. 

 

* * *

  
  


She was bloody fucking lost. Hopelessly lost and drenched by the pouring rain. 

 

She’s walked from Harry and Ginny’s flat all the way down to a park two blocks away. Yet that hadn’t been enough space put between herself and her mother. And it was two A.M. he was stranded in the middle of London because she had made the foolish choice to tell Ginny she was with Tom. 

 

Because she wanted to be alone and by now Ginny had already gone to bed. No one answered her calls and she was hesitant to call Tom. Not wanting to come off as some girl who threw fits over a scolding dealt out by their parents. She told herself he would actually be upset if he learned she’d spent the entire night on a bench in what looked like a seedy side of town. 

 

Sighing, she pulled out her phone glaring at the low battery before sending him a text message first. She didn’t really want to wake him up. 

 

_ Are you awake?  _

 

She sat there, shoving her phone between her things. Hermione’s eyes widened when it vibrated nearly immediately.  _ I am.  _

 

She bit her lip.  _ Would I be a terrible bother if I told you that I’m lost in a part of London that I’ve never been in before? And that I don’t have any other way to get home?  _

 

Her phone rang, loud and shrill, drawing the attention of some she’d rather not look at her. “Hello?” She whispered into the phone. 

 

“Why exactly are you lost, Hermione? And why are you just now calling me?” His voice was hard and she could imagine the fury crossing his face. 

 

“Well, I, do you remember how I told you my mother was a cunt?” She blurted. 

 

“I recall.” 

 

“She was in the flat when you left, she heard everything, and we fought. I couldn’t be there so I left.” 

 

“And this was right after I left?” He hissed, and she retracted even though he wasn’t there. There was a crash, familiar to the sound of glass shattering. 

 

“Yes.” She whispered meekly. “I couldn’t be there, Tom.” 

 

“I understand that. I don’t understand why you’re just now calling me after five hours. What the fuck have you even been doing?” 

 

“Walking, mostly. I was going to stop and get some tea, but no one would serve unless I was wearing shoes. And I’m not, so I didn’t try.” 

 

“You’re barefoot in the rain? In December? Hermione, you should have called me then.” 

 

“I wanted to be alone. I didn’t want to seem like this girl who had a breakdown over small things, Tom!” 

 

“ _ I would have left you alone.  _ In my flat, leaving you to be fucking warm. What else are you wearing?” 

 

“Joggers and a sweatshirt,” she mumbled. “Ginny won’t answer because she thinks I’m with you. She’ll have silenced her phone.” Heavy breathing came across the line. “Tom, I can manage to find my way home.” She muttered, dragging her hand down her face. “It was probably a mistake to call you, and,” 

 

There was a sharp movement around the corner from her, and she looked up, seeing a man hovering over her. Her mouth dried instantly. “The only mistake you made was when you didn’t call me immediately, and you decided to freeze yourself in the rain.” He was speaking, but she wasn’t listening. 

 

Fingers threaded through her hair. “Tom, you have to hurry.” She hissed, looking up to the nearest street signs. “I’m near Locke and Piper.  _ Get your fucking hands off of me. _ ” She screamed, her phone slipping from her hands and crashing against the concrete. 

 

“Hermione?” His voice was booming, even from where her phone had fallen a foot away from her. 

 

The man who towered over her wore a cruel smile. He gripped her by her arms, sharp, dirt crusted nails digging into her skin. Hermione head butted him, smacking her forehead into his nose as hard as she can. There was a crack, and his grasp loosened. She stumbled, bending down to grab her phone, and sprinted for the nearest public place. 

 

“Goddammit, answer me,” 

 

“I’m fucking sorry, I was goddamn busy because some fucking prick started manhandling me.” She kept running, not looking behind her until she neared the end of the block. “Look, I don’t know where the fuck I am, and I’m an idiot for doing this and I cannot,” 

 

“Is he following you?” 

 

Fearful, she glanced backwards. “No.” She murmured. “I’m fucking scared though. He could be hiding in an alley, I think I broke his nose.” 

 

“Is there a store close to you? A restaurant maybe?” 

 

“There’s a place that looks like a brothel.” She deadpanned. Hermione could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose as he often did at her sarcastic comments. “Um, there’s a book store up the block, I think? There’s a pub called The Shrieking Shack that’s not to far from me.” 

 

“Fucking Christ, how did you end up there?” He groaned. “Listen to me. Go over to that pub, the owner’s name is Abraxas, let him know that Riddle sent you to wait there until I could get there.” 

 

“Abraxas what? Or will they even let me talk to him if he’s the owner. He’s probably too busy-” 

 

“Go to that goddamn pub, and sit in one place until I’m there. Don’t move, don’t drink anything, and for fuck’s sake don’t start a fight with that smart mouth of yours.” 

 

She was shaking, whether from her clothes or the man who had grabbed her, she couldn’t decide. “I’ve always wanted to break a beer bottle over someone’s head.” She said weakly. 

 

“It wouldn’t break.” He growled. “And if anyone laid a fucking hand on you, I’d break every last finger on their hand. Slowly.  _ Go.”  _

 

“I’m going.” 

 

* * *

  
  


Abraxas took one look at her and nearly kicked her out the door. Until she told him, “Um, Tom Riddle told me to wait for him here, but I told him I could wait outside. It’s fine, really.” She looked around nervously, feeling men staring at the way her wet clothes clung to her. She was still trembling. Hermione had tucked her hands inside of sleeves, clenching the fabric in her hands. 

 

She was terrified to turn her back to anyone, but Abraxas gently steered her down a corridor that was far less noisy. He’d left her to sit in his office, had told her to make herself at home and that Riddle would know where to find her. Taking his words to heart, she opened the mini fridge against the wall and pulled out a bottle of water. 

 

It wasn’t long before the door was slammed open, revealing Tom, his dark hair matted by the rain. He threw a spare change of clothes onto the sofa that was seated against the wall. “Why are you sitting in the floor?” 

 

“I didn’t want to get everything wet, so I sat here.” She climbed to her feet, moving to grab the clothes he had bought for her, but she found herself crushed against his chest instead. His arms were tight around her waist. “Tom.” She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

 

“Are you hurt?” He asked her, rubbing her back. “Do you know what the man who grabbed you looks like?” 

 

“I’m sure I could point him out, but I don’t think it’s necessary.” Hermione clung to him, tears stinging her eyes. “This is all my fault. I acted like a petulant child, storming out the way I did.” She told him. 

 

Grasping her hips he guided her backwards until the backs of her knees met the edge of the sofa. “Have a seat.” He murmured, kneeling in front of her. “Tell me the truth about whether you’re okay or not.” He lifted her arms above her head, and then tugged at the hem of her shirt, peeling it away from her skin before reaching around her back to remove her bra. 

 

“Your hands are warm.” She whimpered. “He didn’t hurt me, but I’m shaken up. I can’t believe that happened is all.” 

 

“Well, you’re in Knockturn Alley, not that it’s your fault. I’m just not surprised someone tried to grab onto you. How did you get away, you said you thought you broke his nose?” 

 

“I headbutted him as hard as I could. I’ll probably have a headache, but I don’t feel much right now. I’m not cold, but my feet definitely hurt.” 

 

He glanced down, his shoulders stiffening at the usually pale feet covered in dirt from the street. “Yes, well, I didn’t have anything you could wear for that.” 

 

“You don’t wear slippers?” She grinned. 

 

He chuckled. “No, I definitely don’t wear slippers. What made you so angry that you would storm out half clothed?” 

 

She looked away, lifting her arms for him to slide his shirt over her head. “Well, she told me that she didn’t believe she raised me that way and I told her I didn’t believe she raised me at all. Followed by the fact that I wouldn’t apologize for enjoying myself and having enthusiastic sex with my boyfriend. She then asked if I liked being called a little slut and that’s when I stormed out.” 

 

“Ah,” he pushed her to lean against the sofa, pulling her joggers down her legs, and then slipping her knickers down her legs. ‘Lift your arse.” he told her again, dressing her in a pair of his own joggers. “You did tell me she was a bitch.” 

 

She nodded. “Can you just take me home now?” 

 

“I’m taking you home with me, Hermione. After the night you’ve had, I don’t think you really want to be alone, and I want to make sure you warm yourself up properly.” Tom told her, shoving her soaking clothes into a bag. 

 

“I would rather be with you.” She hesitated to admit it, but he stood to his feet, offering her his hand. 

 

“Climb onto my back, love.” Hermione didn’t argue for just once, and let herself focus on the nickname he rarely used, climbing onto his back from the couch and wrapping her legs around his waist. 

  
  



	6. Chapter Five

She melted into the leather seats of his car, a sleek black, four door that idled against the curb outside. Tom stalked around the front of the car, shoving his hands into the pockets of his wool jacket while tucking his head into his scarf for a moment before sliding in beside her. He didn’t waste time in asking her to put her seatbelt on, choosing to reach across and buckle it for her. 

 

“Abraxas seems aggressive,” she mumbled, looking at the way he clenched the steering wheel while he pulled out from the ‘no parking’ zone. “In fact he was going to throw me out until he heard me say your name. His face drained of color.” 

 

Tom hummed, running a stop sign after looking around to see no one was there. “It seems like cowering is a trait that belongs to the Malfoys. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve secured a patent on cowardice.” 

 

“Malfoy as in Draco Malfoy? About a foot taller than me, white blond hair, with the worst fucking attitude I’ve ever encountered in my life?” 

 

He nodded. 

 

Hermione leaned back in her seat once more, crossing her arms. “Funny, he doesn’t seem to be that awful.” 

 

“Have you had a first hand experience with the younger Malfoy?” Tom asked her, coming to a stop at a stop light. “He’s worse than his father Lucius, and Abraxas is his uncle.” 

 

“I broke his nose about six months ago.” Hermione told him, smirking at his surprise. “He slapped my arse on some childish dare that Theodore Nott had given him, and well, the rest is in his medical records.” 

 

Tom snorted. “I’m not the least bit surprised. You seem to like handling things physically.” 

 

She shook her head. “Not at all. Of course if someone grabs me like tonight, then yes, I’d make sure they came out of it worse for wear, but I don’t like violence.” 

 

“Ah, so that’s the difference between you and I.” Tom murmured, reaching over to brush his thumb across her knuckles. “I’d have beaten him to a pulp.” 

 

“You would have been able to. I was tiny compared to him.” A shiver went through her. “I wasn’t scared then. I mean, I was, but I didn’t realize how scared I should have been.” 

 

“You scared the shit out of me.” He growled. 

 

She settled into silence, leaning her head against the window and watching the street lamps pass her. Hermione hadn’t been to his flat since she’d met him in thethe pub all those months ago, where he’d taken her home with him and fucked her until she  _ couldn’t  _ take anymore. His flat was in a well kept brick building, and she assumed he paid extra for his parking spot when he nabbed one almost right in front of the entrance. 

 

Before she was out of the car, he was opening her door, the corners of his lips twitching. “I can’t have you tracking water down the hallways, can I?” He slipped his arms under her and she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Despite telling herself it was for the fact that she really did need to stay hidden, it was also because his presence was calming. 

 

She didn’t want to think about what could have happened. “I won’t be able to sleep if I want to make it to my interview in the morning,” she whispered, nibbling on his earlobe. 

 

“You shouldn’t do that right now, Hermione.” 

 

“Why not?” 

 

“Because I’ll bend you over my knee and spank you until you’re crying in this hallway.” Tom told her, fingers clutching her sides. 

 

“Perhaps, but then you’ll make me feel better because you couldn’t let me be in pain,” she chirped, maybe too happily. 

 

He rolled his eyes, fingers clutching her side as he twisted his key into the lock. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to draw a bath.” He grumbled, tossing his keys onto the granite countertop. Her wince didn’t go unnoticed as they slid across the top and fell to the floor. 

 

“That’s not necessary, I can draw my own bath,” she snapped, pulling the legs of the joggers she wore up before she slipped on the tile. He’d never let her live it down. Hermione found herself chest to chest with him, peering up at his dark eyes. “If you’re going to be angry,” 

 

“Hermione,” he deadpanned, “I threw my keys,  _ barely,  _ I’m not angry with you, I’m angry that for some reason you thought it would be better for you to wander around London for five hours than call me. And for what reason? Because you thought I would see you as a child? You’re my fucking  _ student. _ ” 

 

“Run the sodding bath,” she growled, rubbing her temples. “I don’t want to fight, especially not over something as ridiculous as this. I shouldn’t have ran out.” 

 

“You should have called me the moment you left.” 

 

“Sure.” 

 

“Say it, Hermione. For fucks sake, it wouldn’t kill you to admit you’re wrong.” Tom took her by the hand, tugging her along down a corridor and into the bathroom off the right side. “You’re too goddamned stubborn for your own good, and,” 

 

Hermione stood behind him as he bent to twist the knob of the porcelain tub. Ripping his shirt from over her head, she threw it into the hamper. “Wouldn’t you be the one to understand this? Do you enjoy having your weaknesses bared for anyone to see?” 

 

He whirled around to face her while she reached behind her to unclasp her bra. “Am I just anyone?” 

 

Her mouth was dry as her eyes widened a fraction. Whatever she had expected him to say, it certainly hadn’t been that. “What?” 

 

He stepped towards her, pulling on the string holding the joggers she wore up. The black material pooled around her feet on the tile. “To answer your question, no I wouldn’t want anyone to see my weaknesses, but I wouldn’t give a shit if you did.” 

 

She blinked. “You’re lying.” 

 

“Fine,” he snarled, clearly exasperated. “It’s a work in progress, but at least I’m attempting to be open with you.” Tom knelt down in front of her, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her knickers and sliding them down her legs. 

 

“Does your definition of being open with me consist of telling me you’d break that man’s fingers? Slowly?” Hermione laughed gently, walking around him to step into the tub. “I suppose..” she bit her lip as she placed her hands on either side of the tub, sinking into the hot water. “I suppose I hadn’t thought of it that way.” 

 

“Fucking unbelievable.” Tom held up one finger, and left the room, leaving the door wide open. 

 

Hermione relaxed in the water, laying her head back. The short silence was ruined when there was a thud beside her. Cracking one eye open, she found Tom had changed into comfortable joggers, and had lost his shirt. “Are you grading?” Hermione giggled, peeking over the side of the tub to see their most recent assignments. 

 

He simply glared at her, donning his reading glasses. 

 

“How did I not know you wore glasses?” She rested her forearms on the railing, and tilted her head to the side. “I like them.” 

 

“Glad I could please you,” he snorted. “I was grading before you called me. It would seem if I’m to hold my students to a deadline, I should return their assignments quicker. If only I didn’t have better things to do.” 

 

“Is this thing called Hermione?” She asked, a smirk settling over her lips. “How did I score?” 

 

He raked through his file, pulling a stapled report from him, neatly typed and spaced correctly. “Yours was the top of the class, as usual. Those two friends of yours though, did you help the two of them into university?”

 

She shrugged. “I helped them study until they could have recited the work in their sleep.” Hermione replied. “Why?” 

 

“It’s clear that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley worked together on this assignment,” Tom scowled. “It’s complete rubbish.” He moved to hand her two more reports, but she shook her head. “Oh, it’s not like I’m going to let them pass because you’ve looked at them.” 

 

“No?” 

 

“Absolutely not, I enjoy how their faces drain of color when they get their marks back. One of my joys is grading their abysmal work.” He spoke with the hint of a smile beginning to curve his lips. 

 

* * *

  
  
  


She was nearly late to her interview that next morning, but Tom had come through for her. Hermione was sure he hadn’t slept after he’d led her back to his bedroom. With her cheeks hot from the sight of his mirror, which brought back several ideas, she climbed into the bed. 

 

She’d been asleep nearly instantly, resting on top of his chest with her leg swung over his. 

 

At seven A.M. however, the alarm on her phone had blared from under her ear, and she sat straight up with a shriek. Clad in one of his shirts, one that reached the tops of her knees, Hermione ventured out of his bedroom, walking towards the sizzling sound in the kitchen. 

 

The sight of him still shirtless was a reward, and she snuck up behind him to slip her arms around his waist. Pressing her lips to his shoulder blades, Hermione made him sway with her. 

 

“You’re awfully cuddly in the mornings,” he mused, amusement in his voice. “I’ll have you know I’ve never been this domestic, and I loathe cuddling.” 

 

“You always let me cuddle you.” Hermione pointed out. “Would you like to know what I think?” She didn’t wait for him to reply. “I think,” she reached around him to steal a piece of bacon, “that you actually like all of the attention. I also think that you’re actually a huge softie on the inside.” 

 

He snorted. “You have no idea what I was like when I was younger.” 

 

She shook her head. “I overheard Abraxas say how you used to collect debts from those who owed him money. It turns out there’s a lot of gossip in the Shrieking Shack. Such as how you were paid rather well for it.” 

 

He’d frozen. “It’s not as if I murdered anyone for the bastard.” Tom grumbled, flipping a pancake. “I can’t believe I’m discussing my past violent tendencies while I cook goddamn pancakes.” 

 

She laughed loudly, muffling her laugh in his back. “I’m just saying it’s possible it just took the right person for you to be this nice. I seriously doubt you’re so kind to anyone besides me.” 

 

Tom turned to face her, gripping her by her hips and setting her on top of the counter. “And would you say you’re the right person for me, Hermione?” 

 

She blushed, balling her hands up in his shirt and looking away. “That’s not what I meant. I just, well,” 

 

“You only ramble when you’re caught off guard,” he murmured, bracing his hands on either side of her waist while he leaned over her. “And you don’t know what to say.” 

 

“Which unfortunately is often around you.” She grumbled. 

 

“Maybe you have a point though. I certainly never cuddled Bella, or even desired her company.” She glared at him, and then there was a knock at the door. 

 

“Were you expecting anyone?” She asked quietly, and he shook his head. “Let me down, I’m going to go hide somewhere. The likelihood of it being someone who could recognize me is a risk we shouldn’t take.”

 

“It will only be a moment. Go to my bedroom, and I’ll get rid of whoever it is.” Tom told her, kissing her roughly before letting her slide off the countertop. 

  
  


Tom looked out of the keyhole, scowling at the sight of Bella standing at his front door. It would be easy to kick her out, but he worried more that she’d start sniffing around him. 

 

Opening the door, he placed himself in front of her to block her from storming in. “What do I owe the pleasure?” He drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word. 

 

She ran one manicured nail down his bare chest. “I’ve hardly seen you, Tom.” Her pout was poised to be perfectly seductive, the neckline of her dress cut low to showcase her tits. “My husband is tied up in meetings all mornings, so I thought I would sneak away to see you.” 

 

Smirking, he nodded. “That would be a marvelous idea, Bella, if I were interested. Find yourself another toy.” Tom shut the door on her surprised face, not bothering to listen to her objections. Though he had no doubt Bella would prove to be a complete fucking nuisance. 

 

He refused to let the crazy bitch put any sort of doubts into Hermione’s head. It had taken months to get her right where he wanted her, which was with him regardless of the situation. 

 

A scowl set on her face, Hermione stormed out of his bedroom, her hands resting on her hips as she shot him an angry glare. “Are you serious? Did she just fucking knock on the front door?” Her eyebrows nearly shot into her hairline. 

 

He raised his hands in mock surrender, but there was an amused smirk on his face. “It’s not as if I invited her over. She’s done this before.” 

 

“She’s just appeared at your door before?” She grumbled. “Maybe she could have taken the fucking hint that you weren’t interested when you stopped fucking her.” 

 

He chuckled, taking two long strides across the room to tilt her head by her chin. “She’s not used to being rejected.” He murmured. “Rest assured that I did inform her I wasn’t interested when she tried to suck me off in my classroom.”

 

“For the love of God, Tom.” Hermione rubbed her temples. “She’s a stage five clinger, and that’s putting it mildly.” 

 

He blinked. “What did you just say to me?” Tom just shook his head as she laughed, trying to hide her grin behind the back of her hand. “Just ignore her, she’s nothing.” 

 

Hermione stopped laughing. “She’s a loathsome person, and you know she’s going to dig around.” She bit her lip, her eyes widening. “Tom..just how vindictive is she?” 

 

He looked down at her, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “Are you asking me? You saw it with your own eyes when she dumped scalding coffee over you. There’s no need to worry, she doesn’t know who you are.” 

 

“Let’s pretend for a moment that she doesn’t find out who I am, that I’m your student, and that she doesn’t single me out. Her husband is on the university board, isn’t he?” 

 

He snorted. “Rudolphus would be the last one who would attempt to have me fired. Don’t worry about this.” Tom’s fingers slid into her hair. “It seems I’ve burnt breakfast.” 

 

“To a crisp,” Hermione agreed with a shrug of her shoulders. “You forgot to take it off the burner before you answered the door. I threw the pancakes in the trash. The bacon is still good though.” 

 

“Fan-” 

 

“I ate that already though, but you have some cereal in the cabinet you can have.” Hermione told him, grinning ear to ear at the shocked look on his face. 

 

“Oh?” He chuckled. “You’ll let me eat my own cereal? How generous of you.” Tom laughed, a loud sound that took her by surprise. The dark tone of it made her shiver, and she slipped her fingers into the waistband of his joggers. 

 

“Or,” she suggested. “We could skip breakfast because I’m willing to bet she’s still on the other side of that door.” Hermione stepped closer to him, sliding her hand into his pajama bottoms, and stroking his semi erect cock. “So, I think you should fuck me against that door until she leaves.” 

 

“And then?” He breathed, pinching her nipple through her shirt. “What would you have me do after she leaves?” 

 

“Take me out to breakfast. I’m starving.” Hermione giggled. 

 

He did take her out to breakfast, and Hermione had been right to think Bellatrix was on the other side of the door. 

 

* * *

  
  


The interview was a bust. 

 

A fact she knew Tom realized the moment she stepped into his classroom that afternoon. Hermione settled into her chair, placing a notebook in front of her while she doodled in the margins. 

 

Ginny sat beside her, nibbling on her lip hesitantly. “Where were you last night? I never heard from you this morning.” 

 

“I spent the better half of the night wandering around London,” Hermione bit out, pressing down harder on the upper corner of her shittily drawn flower as the ink bled through the pages. Tom’s eyes lingered on her. “Five hours if you want to be exact. Without shoes, or a real coat.” 

 

“Why in the bloody fuck didn’t you tell me to come get you then? You lied to me!” Ginny hissed, slapping her hand down on the desk. “It’s so unlike you to do something like this. I don’t even know what to say.” 

 

Hermione swallowed. “It was an incredibly reckless decision. I wanted to be alone, and I didn’t call  _ him _ ,” her voice dropped to a whisper as Harry sat beside them. “Because I didn’t want to seem like a child.” 

 

“Did you call him? Hermione Jean, if you tell me you slept outside in England, in the middle of the winter no less, I swear I’ll-” 

 

“Alright, Mum,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I did call him, and he came to pick me up. He was just as angry as you are, if not more.” 

 

Ginny nodded with a humph, crossing her arms. “I’m glad you were okay.” 

 

Hermione didn’t mutter a single word as the class began, not even raising her hand to answer a question. All things considered, it was probably the one part that made Tom genuinely concerned, as he said two facts wrong. 

 

And she couldn’t be bothered to correct him. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Her sour mood continued throughout the week, despite his best efforts to cheer her up. He’d gone from trying to lift her spirits with sex, which worked for the time being, to attempting to help by offering to pull strings with various employers. 

 

Another thing that had not gone over so well since she refused to  _ let her boyfriend buy her way in.  _ Hermione had made it extremely clear, in several different spiels that she would get herself to where she needed to be through hard work. 

 

Then he’d helped her submit applications to more establishments, but she’d ended that once she realized he was typing her birthday as September twentieth, and he had made the half hearted joke that after the fierce scolding she dealt him that  _ at least I won’t be able to forget your birthday next year.  _

 

She’d laughed. 

 

_ Are you home alone?  _ The text from him read. 

 

Hermione glanced down at herself, covered in crumbs from her chips, and her laptop settled in her lap while yet another application was laid out in front of her. 

 

She really, really, did not want to get into half of these job postings that required more experience than waitressing when they were advertised for entry level. Yet another thing that was infuriating her this week. 

 

_ This feels like I’m living with my parents again, and my boyfriend wants to come over and fuck me.  _ It was the most she’d felt like her snarky self all week. He was no doubt sniggering at her reply, and the thought of him smiling was enough to make her smile. And-fuck! She had it bad for this man. 

 

_ Hardly. Open the door, and be quick about it.  _

 

She sprung to her feet, leaving her laptop open and on the couch while she brushed her clothes off. Well, her jumper since she had the house to herself and hadn’t worn pants at all. Hermione padded to the door, flipping the lock, and letting it swing open. “Tom, what are you- oh my  _ god!”  _ She gasped, the tips of her fingers coming up to rest against her lips. “Did you buy the entire goddamn flower shop?” She laughed. 

 

She couldn’t see his face at all. It was hidden by the ridiculous amount of daisies he carried, but he snorted before walking past her. “The old woman asked me exactly why I was buying flowers, and somehow I ended up with this.” He shrugged, dumping bouquets onto the couch. “I don’t give a fuck if that stains the couch right now.” 

 

“They’re not even going to notice.” She stared at the cushions, at the obscene amount of flowers he’d just carried up three flights of stairs. “Fuck, no one has even bought me flowers before, and you, you,” 

 

Tom threw his sunglasses onto the couch, and slipped the jacket off of his shoulders. He’d been wearing the hood on the chance one of her roommates was here. “I wasn’t sure if you had a favorite flower, but you’re always doodling these, so I just took an educated guess.” 

 

“I can’t believe this.” She choked, her eyes burning as tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m trying not to cry, but this week has been so shitty.” 

 

“I know that-” 

 

She held a hand up. “Let me finish really quick,” Hermione told him, plucking one flower from the couch. “I’ve been a complete bitch to you, Tom, but you tried to make jokes. Which you’re so awful at by the way,” he snorted. “And you tried to make me laugh, and you tried to distract me, and I can’t believe the same person who told me he was going to break some guy’s fingers one by one is the same guy who just bought like a hundred goddamn flowers.” 

 

“To be fair, I’ve never bought anyone flowers, so I think this is a first for both of us.” He said dryly. “And breaking fingers would feel more natural than this, but I’ve already tried everything else. So taking you by surprise was the best option I had left.” 

 

“What exactly did you tell the owner of the coffee shop?” Hermione asked, rubbing her eyes with the bottom of her palms. “How did she even sell you this many?”

 

Tom smirked. “I told her that you lost your job, and that it was technically my fault. I mentioned that my ex girlfriend, for lack of a better word. Don’t give me that look, Granger, she was nearing one hundred and I didn’t feel like explaining how I had a fling and her husband was cuckolded, and fuck, I’m getting off track.” 

 

Hermione burst into laughter. 

 

“I told the old crone that Bellatrix was a cunt to you, but I might not have used that exact word. Plus the fact that you didn’t have a good interview, and how you’re not having any luck.” He continued, pulling her towards him by cupping her arse. “And then, I might have mentioned that you realized I didn’t know your birthday.” 

 

She blinked, and then her lips curved into the brightest smile. “Ah, well that explains the flowers then.” Hermione laughed. “Your guess was right, daisies are my favorite.” Slipping her arms around over his shoulders, she surprised him by jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist. “My bedroom is down the corridor and to the left,” she told him, kissing him. 

 

He smirked, making his way down the hallway, and nudged the door open with his foot. He took the time to lock the door behind them. With their luck, someone would storm into her bedroom. And though it was inevitable that their relationship would come out, Tom hoped he could put it off for at least another three weeks. 

 

“Don’t make plans for tomorrow night,” Tom muttered against her skin, his lips skimming down the column of her neck. 

 

Her fingers dug into his shirt, her nails biting into his chest as her back arched. “Ah, the date,” Hermione laughed. “I thought for sure you would cancel after this awful week.” She pulled at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, and tossing it into the floor. Hermione flattened her palms against his chest and shoved him backwards. 

 

Straddling his waist, she bent to kiss him again, rougher this time as she drew his bottom lip between her teeth. Tom gripped her hips tightly. “That’s ridiculous,” he commented, breaking off into a groan as she rolled her hips. “If anything, it would make more sense now to spend some bloody time together.” 

 

“What do you have planned?” 

 

“Something simple, but that’s all you’ll get out of me. The clothes I’ve picked out for you are in my car.” He smirked at the way her eyes widened. 

 

“I’d forgotten about that.” 

 

“Funny, I didn’t.” Tom drawled. 

 

* * *

  
  


Saturday seemed to drag on forever until she finally opened the gift bag Tom had given her. Under his explicit instructions she hadn’t taken a peek until it was nearly time for her to leave for his flat. She wasn’t surprised to find that he’d taken the liberty to buy a lacy lingerie set, completed with garters as well. 

 

Hermione was certain it had come from a store she would be too poor to even set foot in, but she stripped, leaving her cotton knickers in a pile beside her shorts. She briefly considered taking a picture of herself in the full length mirror and sending it to Tom, but a smirk curved her lips. He’d expect her to, and what she really wanted was to take him by surprise when he inevitably ripped her clothes off.

 

Spread over her desk laid an obnoxious amount of daisies, but she hadn’t had the heart to throw them into the garbage. Upon their arrival home, and following Tom’s hasty exit from her window, completed by grasping the nape of her neck and kissing her roughly, Ginny had immediately laid into Harry. 

 

Her boyfriend had not been prepared for the onslaught of questions like:  _ when was the last time you bought me flowers? Harry James Potter, we have been dating for nearly six years and you’ve never done anything like this for me.  _ Ginny had been a bit pouty, and more than a little jealous. Not that she’d been outwardly rude to Hermione.  _ Hermione has been seeing this guy for a few weeks and he did this for her when she had a bad week.  _

 

_ “Hey, now when you were kicked from the rugby team, I made you feel better!” Harry had snapped.  _

 

_ “You went down on me in a cupboard!” Ginny harped, continuing even though Ron stood right beside her. The tips of his ears turning as red as his hair. “Eating me out doesn’t compare to buying a flower shop.” She’d let it go though.  _

 

_ “Could you tell your sodding boyfriend to stop making the rest of us look bad?” Harry grumbled, watching his girlfriend make her way into their bedroom.  _

 

Hermione stepped into the dress that laid on her bed, a dark blue dress that clung to her figure. Turning to see - and being pleased - she looked at her arse. She’d be surprised if they even made it to dinner. 

 

Her roommates weren’t home as she grabbed her coat from the hook by the door, and she took a few steps to test how well she would be able to walk in the heels she wore. Tom hadn’t decided on her shoes, and if he had he would have picked flats since she insisted on walking herself to his flat. It was only a street or two. 

 

Making her way down the stairs, she wrapped a wool scarf around her neck, covering her hair before snowflakes could settle in her hair. The walk was short, and she already knew the moment she stepped inside his flat she was going to throw the heels across the room. Regardless of how sexy they were, if she stepped in one more crack, she would just walk the rest of the way barefoot. 

 

It was as she moved to step inside the elevator of Tom’s building, the one that would take her to his floor, that a woman nearly knocked her down. Wide eyed, and a loud “Fuck,” falling from her lips, Hermione looked up to see a woman staring her down. 

 

She swallowed, though it was uncomfortable since her throat had suddenly gone dry. 

 

Bellatrix stared at her scathingly, her upper lip curling into a grimace as she knocked her shoulder into hers while exiting the elevator. “Don’t get comfortable,” she called over her shoulder, flinging her hand out to stop the elevator from closing. “You’re temporary in his life, and you’re just a little girl he can busy himself with.” 

 

Hermione glared at her. “Perhaps you  _ should  _ get comfortable with where you’re at, which is far away from Tom. Considering I’m the one who he will spend tonight, and every other night buried inside of.” Hermione spat, knocking Bellatrix’s hand away so the elevator would close. 

 

She’d never felt at ease inside of elevators, but the sudden shakiness of the track had nothing to do with the way her stomach dropped. The door was unlocked to his flat, and with the way he turned all too quickly, he must have been expecting Bellatrix to come back. 

 

And then his eyes grew dark as he took long strides to reach her. “You saw her, didn’t you?” 

 

She nodded, biting her lip. “Tom, I don’t know what she’s going to do, but I think we should be ready for the worst.” 

 

“What did she say to you? Did she hurt you?” He asked her, capturing her wrists and looking her over. 

 

She shook her head. “She told me not to get comfortable because I’m just a little girl who is only satisfying an itch for you. I’ve made it worse by telling her I wouldn’t be going anywhere, and that I would be the one spending tonight with you. And every other night.” She mumbled the last bit, not ready to even touch on the topic of how long this might last. 

 

Hermione had a fear, one that had been knocked to the back of her mind since he came to her flat the first time. Everything with him had been so lovely, so seemingly perfect that she forgot how she was mostly terrified that this relationship with him came with an expiration date. 

 

And she wasn’t quite ready to voice her doubts and let him know how she worried it had been brought closer. 

 

“Whatever is going to happen, is going to happen.” Hermione told him. “For tonight, all I want is to be with you. I want to pretend we didn’t have a shitty week, and that there’s some woman who is determined to make us miserable. Can we do that?” 

 

Tom nodded. “I can do that for you,” he said quietly. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If my updates seem a little slow, I'm super sorry! I struggle a bit with this fic because it was my first tomione. I'm also writing a dramione summer fic, and a new dramione, so if you like them, there's more on my tumblr. mrsren96.
> 
> As always, comments make me work harder. ;) I hope you like it!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve returned to you!

* * *

  
  
  
  


She tapped her pen against the desk, her lips twisted into a scowl as she watched Bellatrix lean over Tom’s desk. The older woman had pushed the double doors of their lecture open, making her way down the aisle all while swaying her hips and had been commandeering Tom’s attention since. 

 

From the corner of her eye, she caught Ron nudging Harry, but she kept her head down. It wouldn’t do to storm up there, grab Bellatrix by her ridiculously perfect curls, and slam her forehead against the edge of his desk. It would not help, Hermione told herself, but imagining the shocked expression that would have claimed Bellatrix’s face -- that might have helped a bit. 

 

Hermione penned the exam in silence, her eyes flicking up every once in a while. Tom wouldn’t meet her gaze; unsurprising, he was prepared for Bella to out them, and he didn’t want to give her anymore to use against him. 

 

The subject of her ire had worn a short pencil skirt that bordered provocative, and there was no mistaking the curl of her lip as disappointment when he didn’t rake his eyes over her. Her blouse sat open, the top several buttons undone, exposing her cleavage. 

 

Hermione snapped her pen in half when she leaned forward once much more, and from her vantage point it was clear Bellatrix pushed her breasts together. 

 

“Quit it,” Ginny muttered, elbowing her with a sharp glare. “She’s trying to rile you up.” 

 

Hermione nodded, and when the class was dismissed, she gathered her things, and left alongside Ginny. 

 

That Thursday, Tom’s class had been her only, and she found herself sitting in the campus cafe shop after she had parted from her friends, claiming a headache. Ginny had given her an understanding look and shuffled both her boyfriend and brother off in the opposite direction. Her thoughts were a mess, given that she was considering the worst possible outcomes of Bellatrix waging a petty rivalry against her. The first, and the most obvious solution to her was to break things off immediately. It  _ would  _ be the best for his career, and perhaps for her pride in the end if he was forced to choose between her and his status as a professor. 

 

Tapping her fingers against her cup of tea, Hermione knew she wasn’t going to do that. He meant far too much to her, in the sort of way that made her heart beat faster, but also in the way that made her want to wretch. It was a....complicated answer to how she felt. 

 

Her phone sat on the table while her textbook was open in front of her, but she hadn’t read a word since she had sat down. Yet she jumped for her cell phone with it vibrated against the faux wood. 

 

_ Everything is fine. She wants to rattle you.  _

 

Hermione bit her lip.  _ What will you do if it costs your career, Tom? I think we should discuss this because it’s undoubtedly going to blow up in our face. That bitch doesn’t want to rattle me; she wants to destroy what I have.  _

 

Three bouncing dots solidified her anxiety, and she thought she was going to be sick. But it was as his message was coming through that her phone rang - loud and shrill, earning her dirty looks - with Ginny’s face flashing across the screen. 

 

“Hello?” Hermione brought the phone to her ear. 

 

There was a hiccup. “Hermione, I have terrible news.” 

 

She shot forward in her chair, the legs squeaking as they scratched the floor beneath her. “Are Harry and Ron okay?” She blurted, her mind already going to the worst, and most irrational reasons she could be calling. 

 

“They’re fine; no one is hurt. It’s just that..” there was a sound of a door softly closing. ‘I’m trying to talk where Harry can’t hear me, but the woman that was in our class today? Lestrange something?” 

 

The ball of lead in her stomach dropped. “Yes,” she murmured. 

 

“Hermione, I don’t know how she knew where you lived, and if you ask me, it’s fucking weird. Tom has to do something about her, or I worry her next step would be to physically hurt you -” she broke off, inhaling deeply. “She contacted our landlord to inform him that there was someone living in our flat without being on the agreement.” 

 

Her breathing was ragged. “I understand,” Hermione whispered, cradling the phone to her ear. “I’ll have my stuff packed and out within a few days. I’m so-” 

 

“That’s utter rubbish, where would you go?” 

 

She hesitated, already knowing the most likely outcome of this. “Ginny, I’ll figure it out. The two of you can’t lose your flat for helping me. I would feel terrible. I’m going to go, and I’m going to tell him, and then I will be there to gather my things.” She hung up without saying goodbye, cutting off Ginny before her friend could protest further. 

 

_ Forgive me because I didn’t forget that you’re just entering a meeting. Bellatrix contacted Ginny’s landlord to inform him that a tenant was living there without being on the lease. I don’t know where I will be when you’re done X _

 

* * *

 

Tom Riddle’s mood had gotten progressively worse throughout the day. It had started perfectly, with Hermione pinned below him in his bed, with her wrists tied to the headboard loosely, her legs over his shoulders. She’d made breakfast, and he learned that she was horrendous at cooking one thing, and it happened to be the one thing she thought he would like the most. 

 

And so, she’d set off the fire alarm with an omelette. 

 

They hadn’t ate breakfast beyond some toast, and he’d laid her across the kitchen counter, sinking to his knees, and bringing her off with his tongue again. Not only did his neighbors now know he had a girlfriend to occupy his time with, they also knew she was quite vocal, and demanding. 

 

It had started going downhill when he bumped into Rudolphus, who muttered under his breath that new evaluations were starting. Like the weak willed man he was, he’d said nothing when Tom’s shoulder slammed into his, and the files in his hand scattered. Tom didn’t understand why Bellatrix had married such a man. 

 

The woman yearned to be dominated, and it was his mistake to have  _ ever _ gotten tangled with her. Not to worry since it was nothing he couldn’t overcome. Hermione however, he was slightly concerned of her reaction. 

 

It was when the vapid woman had stormed into his lecture in the middle of an exam that he really considered striking a woman. Morally wrong, of course, but hitting a board member’s wife would cause Headmaster Dumbledore to terminate him, effective immediately. His consolation was that Hermione appeared to want to do it herself. 

 

It only grew worse when the ‘meeting’ he had with the headmaster turned out not to be an evaluation, but a witch hunt. 

 

Tom sat in the leather seat across from Albus Dumbledore, whose white beard was ungodly long. Interlacing his fingers, he only leaned back in his chair, his gaze landing on Rodolphus Lestrange and his wife. “To what do I owe you all the pleasure?” His voice was hard. “Forgive me, I was under the impression that evaluations were only conducted at the end of the term, and not by someone so unofficial.” 

 

Albus Dumbledore’s smile was kind, and fake. “There has been an issue brought to my attention, Tom. How well do you know Hermione Granger?” 

 

His face was stoic as he drummed his fingers against the table impatiently. “You must be joking. She’s the brightest student in any of my classes, and quite possibly one of the brightest this university has seen in years.” A complete truth, but he would have lied with the same face. 

 

“I’ve seen how friendly you’ve been with her, Tom.” Bellatrix reached across to take his hand. “Really, I’m concerned about your-” 

 

“Albus,” Tom began, yanking his hand away and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I recognize that it was my own foolish mistake to become involved with a colleague, but these accusations are nothing more than Bellatrix Lestrange’s jealousy.” 

 

“How  _ dare  _ you!” She snapped. 

 

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, resting his hands in his lap. “Please continue, Tom. If I’m to make any decision I must possess all of the facts.” 

 

“Naturally. Nearly after the beginning of the term I began a sexually intimate relationship with Missus Lestrange, though no infidelity was involved.” He wanted to laugh as the vapid woman’s face heated up, turning red in her anger. “I would like to state for the record,” he leaned in towards the small recording device on the table. “Rudolphus was well aware and present for these activities. I ended the relationship six weeks ago, only to have been harassed ever since.” 

 

“Missus Lestrange, you must be aware of how-” Dumbledore was cut off as she swiped a glass of water across the table, sending it flying and shattering against the wall. 

 

Tom smirked, “I knew it would cause an uproar, so I attempted to remain quiet. Clearly that’s not possible. She will scream of how I’m a liar, but there are recordings, and they are in my posession.” 

 

The old man shook his head in horror. “That won’t be necessary.” 

 

And then, the one thing that made his day even fucking worse, and the only thing that made him want to march back into that conference room and strangle Bellatrix was the text waiting on his phone. 

 

_ Hermione  _ was the only thing going through his mind at all. 

 

* * *

  
  


She was hunched over her dresser drawers that night, packing her folded clothes into a suitcase. The very same suitcase that she had used just over a month ago. Harry had tried to tell her that they could sign a new lease, and it wouldn’t be a problem. She didn’t have to leave, but Hermione pointed out that it was only wishful thinking on his part. Their landlord had been furious. 

 

Still, she didn’t have a clue what she was going to do. Her options were limited; she could stay with Tom, but she worried Bellatrix would do the exact same thing she already had. There was Ron, but she was sure she’d rather be homeless than be her ex boyfriend’s roommate again. And then, there was home. Not that she wanted to see her parents. If she had to see Jean Granger ever again, she’d say it was too soon. 

 

It all happened too quickly for her to register what was going on: a pounding on the front door, yelling from the living room - Harry’s voice being the loudest- and then her bedroom door flying open. She slipped on a sheer blouse as she stepped backwards, falling and slamming her elbow against the dresser. “What are you doing here?” She managed to get out, looking over a disheveled Tom, whose eyes were narrowed, and his jaw was clenched. 

 

“Why exactly do you have a cell phone if you don’t even answer it?” He asked her, pinching the bridge of his nose when Harry barreled past him. 

 

“Could one of you, either of you, explain why the fuck Professor Riddle is in our flat?” Harry snapped. “Why would you be calling one of your students anyway, unless..” His head jerked around to stare at her accusingly. “ _ No. _ ”

 

Tom scoffed. 

 

Hermione’s nod was barely visible. “Harry, do you remember the night Ginny and I went out to that club? She told you there was a man that I went home with?” At his nod, she continued while scrambling to her feet. “Well, it was Tom; I didn’t know he was our professor until we walked into his class at the beginning of the term.” 

 

“And you just continued a relationship with him?” He looked shocked. 

 

“Well, no..not at first at least. The reason your landlord learned I was staying here is because Bellatrix, the woman in our class this morning, has it out for me. She’s also the reason I was fired from Ollivander’s, although I said some particularly nasty things myself.” 

 

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s not true at all. If there’s anyone to blame it would be  _ him.  _ You’ve caused her to lose her job by getting involved with her, which caused her to lose her flat. You fucking prick, she can’t even live with us anymore!” Her best friend, as much as she loved him, worried her as he stormed towards Tom Riddle. 

 

“Harry, stop it, please,” she pleaded with him, grabbing his arm. “I’m perfectly happy, but I think it would be best if the two of us could talk in private.” 

 

“I’ve always trusted your judgment, but this relationship is the worst idea you’ve ever had. The whole fiasco, if this comes out, could lose you a scholarship.” 

 

Finally breaking his silence, Tom glared at him. “She will never lose her scholarship because of me.” The sound of the promise made her stomach twist.   

 

“Harry, please.” He left her with a shake of his head, and the quiet click of the lock of her bedroom door. “My phone was dead.” Hermione told him, shifting her weight to the opposite foot. “I’m sorry; I knew I would be too busy packing and I just didn’t think about anything else.” 

 

He nodded, tilting her chin up with his knuckle. “Where did you think you were going after you left here, Hermione?” 

 

She swallowed at the dark glint in his eyes. “I was prepared to get on the first train and return home. I knew that you would offer for me to stay with you, but that’s far too risky, Tom. I can’t let you put your career on the line for me, and I-” 

 

He cut her off with a searing kiss, walking her backwards to the bed. Turning himself, he sat down at the foot of the queen size and pulled her to straddle his waist. “Hermione,” he said lowly, his fingers tangling in her hair. “It’s tiresome when you try to run away from our relationship.”

 

She shivered. “What’s tiresome is how you’re risking nearly everything you have for  _ me,  _ and I’m not worth losing your career, or your reputation over, Tom.” 

 

He nuzzled her hair, his fingers slipping under her shirt. “It’s my choice, and I think the decision I’ve made is clear. I refuse to lose you. Bellatrix is a jealous bitch, and if she thinks it’s so simple to tear you away from me,” he chuckled darkly as he kissed the spot below her ear. “I’m afraid she’s already learned that it isn’t.” 

 

“It’s likely she’ll tell your landlord that you’re letting me live there as well, you know.” 

 

He gave a shrug of his shoulders. “Then I suppose I’ll just add your name to my lease.” 

 

“That’s a large jump in commitment, wouldn’t you say?” 

 

He snorted, “I don’t do anything by halves. She won’t do anything for a while, not after how I humiliated her in front of Dumbledore.” 

 

Hermione stilled against the slow movements of his hands, as he rubbed her thighs through her jeans. “What do you mean? What happened?” 

 

“I was under the impression I was due for a midterm evaluation this afternoon. It wasn’t. Albus confronted me about my relationship with you.” 

 

In a word, she panicked. 

 

Tom’s arms locked tightly around her. “Nothing is wrong, love. The only thing the old fool believes is that Bellatrix is harassing me after I cut our relationship short.” 

 

Her eyes widened. “Are you telling me you’ve told the headmaster, your boss might I add, that you cuckolded one of the school board members?” 

 

“I didn’t use the world cuckolded, but I’m sure I laid my message across.” He murmured, edging her shirt up. “He doesn’t believe her.” 

 

“Then she’s only going to be angrier, Tom.” Hermione argued, but she slumped against him as his hands moved to massage her calves. “Moving me in with you is only going to make things worse down the line when Dumbledore does find out. And you know he will, Tom.”

 

“Pack your things, Hermione. If you can believe I would let you just disappear, you’re batty.” Tom told her. “I’ll help you pack; it will fit in my car.” 

 

“Harry’s going to throw the biggest row this side of the century, you know that?” 

 

He smirked, “I would be delighted if he did.” 

 

* * *

  
  


In the end, Harry hadn’t said a bloody word, and Ginny told both her friend, and her professor that they would keep their secret. The redhead added that she wasn’t so sure that Harry would be able to keep this secret from Ron for long. 

 

But it was only a week more until the Christmas holiday, and after that he wouldn’t be her professor anymore. Lying to the headmaster made Hermione uncomfortable, but it was only a few weeks before they returned to university and Professor Lockhart would be her lecturer while Tom Riddle took another class. It would be simple. 

 

It’s what she told herself anyway. 

 

Tom’s flat was dark as she stepped inside, carrying a bag in either of her hands. “Could you grab the light?” He asked her, and she dropped the matching duffle bags onto the couch and flipped the light switch. “Bloody fucking Christ,”

 

Hermione glanced around the room in horror. The coffee table was flipped over, and glass shards were spread over the floor. A vase that she had complimented once before was tipped over, shattered, and it looked as she’d - Hermione had zero doubt it was Bellatrix - stabbed the ceramic shards into the sofa cushions and ripped them to shreds. 

 

The lamp was overturned, the shade crushed with boot prints stamped into the thin material. Photo frames were yanked from the walls, and Hermione dreaded the thought of going into any of the other rooms. Shaking her head, she carefully stepped across the glass, and they cracked beneath her trainers. “I’m going to look at the rest of the damages,” she told him quietly. “You should call the police, and file a report.” 

 

Tom gripped her shoulder, shaking his head. “Wait here while I check the rest of the house; I want to make sure no one is here.” 

 

She folded her arms across her chest. “It’s hardly likely she’s going to burst out of a closet and-” sighing, she nodded. “I’m coming with you though, and then you should call the police.” 

 

“Not bloody likely,” he snarled, tucking her behind him as he made his way down the corridor. “I’d rather deal with the bitch myself.”

 

She scoffed, “What are you going to do, Tom? Slash her tires?” Silence followed by a sharp inhale. “Well, make sure you only slash three. If you destroy all of them her insurance will cover it.” A squeal tumbled from her mouth as he turned sharply and slammed her up against the wall. “Let me guess, my advice on how to commit crimes turns you on?” 

 

His grin was borderline feral as he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. “And if it does?” Tom asked her, pinning her to the wall with his hips while he tugged her shirt over her head. 

 

“You should make sure there isn’t a psychopath in your flat first - besides you -, and then you should come back to me.” Hermione murmured, grinding her hips against his. 

 

Tom reached for the doorknob beside her, peeking inside the bathroom after flipping the light switch. “Wait here for me then,” he bit down on her bottom lip hard, pinching her nipples through her bra. 

 

Hermione slipped inside of the bathroom, unbuttoning her jeans and letting them pool on the floor before sliding her knickers down her legs. The backs of her heels connected with the cupboards below the sink as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. She counted upwards in her head, getting to one hundred and twelve before he came back to her, reaching out to cup her face before kissing her roughly. 

 

“I’m sorry for what’s happened since you met me,” she mumbled, her fingers shaking as she reached for the button on his trousers. 

 

“Fuck if I am,” he growled, scooting her forward and parting her legs, sliding two fingers into her slickness. “If I were the sappy sort, I’d probably tell you how you’re the best thing that’s ever,  _ fuck, _ ” he hissed as her thumb swiped across the tip of his cock. 

 

“But you’re not sappy,” she murmured. “I certainly wouldn’t want you any other way. I’m sorry for your flat, but I’m furious because you could have been home.” 

 

Tom’s fingers knotted in her hair, forcing her to look up at him. “I couldn’t give a fuck if I had been here.” His voice was ragged, and the anger in his eyes ought to have frightened her.

 

But it didn’t. In fact, it only made her wetter as she tried to move against his hand. “Please.” 

 

Tom’s fingers slid into her fast, curling against her walls while her legs shook. “ _ You  _ could have been here, Hermione. I’m worried about you, not myself. Did you see what she did to my fucking couch?” Each word was emphasized by his fingers thrusting into her. 

 

“Yes,” she gasped, clutching his shoulder, her nails digging into his skin and drawing a drop of blood. “She shredded them.” 

 

His eyes flashed. “The thought of what she would have tried to do to you had you been here is why I’m so,” he gripped her chin, making her hold eye contact. “Fucking angry.” 

 

Hermione shrieked, coming hard over his fingers, and there was little doubt his neighbors heard. “I would have fucking killed her,” she bit out angrily, still shaking from her orgasm. “If Bellatrix stormed into this flat and attacked me, you’d better believe I would be the one to walk away.” 

 

His chest rose and fell heavily as she unbuttoned his shirt. “Are you so sure about that?” 

 

Hermione nodded, pushing the fabric from his shoulders. “I’m positive that I am selfish enough to let nothing take me away from you, except for my own crippling self doubt.” 

 

Yes,” he rolled his eyes. “ _ That. _ ” He lifted her off of the counter, pushing her towards the shower. 

 

Hermione slid the clear door open, reaching for the hot water, and leaning against the tile wall as Tom took her wrists and held them over her head with one hand. “Spread your legs,” he told her, smirking when she did so immediately. 

 

Her nipples stiffened, and he ducked his head down to take one in his mouth, the pads of his fingers sliding against her sensitive clit once more. She whimpered his name. “Please, I just want you inside of me.” Hermione begged, her back arching against the wall as her hips jutted out. “Forget the foreplay, Tom, just fuck me as hard as you want to.” 

 

He leaned down, his lips next to her ear. “I won’t be gentle.” He appeared to thrilled at the way she shuddered. “I’ll fuck you into this wall, until you’re begging for a mercy I won’t give you.” 

 

She yanked on the stands of his hair, and peered up at him. “I want to take my frustrations out, and I want you to take yours out on me, sexually.” She clarified with a small laugh. “It’s not like either of us have a class tomorrow...so do your fucking worst-” 

 

He lifted her and thrust into her without another word, cutting her off in the middle of her sentence. Her head fell back against the wall, and she raked her nails down his back. “Is this what you wanted, Hermione? Hate sex?” 

 

“It’s not as if you hate  _ me _ ,” she defended, digging the backs of her feet into his back. “And fuck, yes, it’s what I wanted.” Her shoulders were slammed against the wall with each thrust, the scalding hot water spraying over them. 

 

Still buried deep inside of her, he stepped out of the shower, throwing the bathroom door open and carried her towards his bedroom, their bedroom she supposed now. Ignoring her warnings to be careful of the shattered glass across the floor, his lips met hers roughly as he tugged her bottom lip between his teeth. 

 

She whined when he slid from her, throwing her onto their bed. The room was fucking trashed, with his dresser overturned, the clothes strewn about the room, and fuck even more broken glass from the mirror, and Hermione saw red. The sheets had been ripped straight off the mattress. 

 

“On your knees, Hermione,” he told her, grabbing her by her hips and flipping her onto her stomach. Tom pulled her against him, lining his erection with her dripping cunt, thrusting into her. 

 

She clenched what was left of the sheets on the bed in her hands,as she rocked against him. A broken whimper left her as he wrapped her curls around his fist, pulling them hard as he fucked her roughly. “Oh, fuck,” she mewled as his thumb pressed against her arse hole. “Tom.” 

 

Hermione quickly realized she had underestimated just how angry he was as she trembled below him. His strokes were quick, and he slammed into her each time he bottomed out inside of her. And she was absolutely sure she’d never been so well and truly fucked. “Oh, my God.” She moaned, her cunt clenching around his cock. “Fuck, I’ll never be able to enjoy this with anyone but you.” 

 

“There isn’t going to be  _ anyone else. _ ” He snarled, his fingers sliding against her folds before returning to her arse. As rough as he fucked her, it didn’t go unnoticed that he was slow with his fingers. 

 

“Possessive fucking bastard.” Hermione bit out, and he probably smirked while he did it, but his fingers slid against her clit once, twice, and she was wrecked. 

 

He yanked her up, locking his arm across her chest and biting her neck roughly as he came, his voice rough as he told her that he would “Fill her with his come, and then he would do it again. And how he would fuck her in more positions than she could count before the sun came up.” 

 

She collapsed against him, her hands reaching up to hold onto his arm. “I,” she bit down on her bottom lip hard, her eyes widening at the words that had been on the tip of her tongue. “Are you okay?” 

 

He nodded silently, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “I’m fine, but we aren’t going to stay here tonight.” 

 

“Where will we go?” 

 

“We can stay in a hotel room tonight. I don’t want you in this flat until the locks are changed, and I’ve taken more precautions.” 

 

“Tom..” she ventured. “It’s not necessary.”  It was useless since it was an argument she couldn’t win. “Alright, but at least let me pack a smaller bag. Perhaps you should have taken me to a hotel before fucking me to a point where my legs were jelly.” 

 

He chuckled. “I’d have been carrying you anyway; there’s too much glass you could step on.” 

 

She grumbled, kissing his arm, and giving it a squeeze. 

  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I give you this from my iPad, which might fuck up my formatting, after the shittiest day ever. I look forward to your reviews!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! It’s been exactly a month since I updated today. Of course I never plan for it to take this long, but the closer I get to the end of stories, the longer it takes me to update. I did make it 1.5k longer than normal though, so I hope you’ll forgive me. Thanks to meggie editing today, I was able to get it posted.

She spent her days off from class curled up on the couch. A fancy new one Tom had ordered while they had stayed in a hotel. Technically she was off for the Christmas holidays now since her classes were over, but Tom would be at the university until late tonight. He’d be home for the full two weeks starting tomorrow morning.

 

His classes were already over, she knew, but Dumbledore had suggested that the professors stay to give at risk students a chance to retake their exams. She’d asked him if he would like to go out for dinner tonight, now that he wouldn’t be her professor. While it was frowned upon, there was no stopping them from pursuing a relationship. 

 

But strangely, he’d told her no. 

 

Her phone vibrated from her it was tucked under her leg, and a smile spread across her face.  _ What are you doing?  _ She could imagine Tom sitting behind his desk as he sat through his last class before his planning period. 

 

_ I’m laying on the couch watching Netflix.  _ What else was new? She hated to be laying around, not applying for more jobs as it felt most unlike her. She didn’t want to depend on anyone, but Tom had told her to focus on her degree, and then the rest could follow.  _ There’s nothing good to watch though.  _ She added. 

 

_ Oh? Have you watched through all of your murder documentaries already?  _

 

She snorted.  _ No, you prick. I can’t get into anything because every little sound makes me jump. What are you doing?  _

 

_ I’m currently watching two students in the back of my class whispering to each other. No matter, the pair of them won’t realize the multiple choice answers are in different orders on each exam  So they’ll both fail regardless.  _

 

_ I don’t understand why you allow multiple choice answers in the first place. I would have pegged you for the professor that requires essay style answers.  _

 

_ Critiquing my teaching style now, Miss Granger?  _

 

_ I could critique other things about you if you like.  _ Hermione sent a smiley face at the end, knowing full well that while Tom wasn’t the type to use emojis, the corner of his lips would quirk up when he saw it. Hermione knew that because he’d used her phone a few mornings previous, and he’d asked her why there was a little red heart beside his name. 

 

Of course she knew that it was silly, and something she likely would have done as a teenager, but she just muttered that it felt like the right thing to do. She was sure he’d only put a heart by her name in his phone to make her happy, but seeing this fully grown man scroll through page after page of emojis while mumbling that there were too goddamn many, and why exactly were there  flags for every fucking country - that had made her laugh. 

 

_ Oh, like what?  _

 

_ Well, for one you installed the new locks wrong, and then we had to call for a locksmith. I told you from the beginning you should have just paid someone to do it.  _

 

His reply came instantly.  _ I thought this was going to be something sexy, but I see I was wrong.  _ Hermione muffled her laugh behind her hand.  _ It came with simple directions, Hermione. And I didn’t do it wrong. _

 

_ Oh, but you did, because from what I understand, the keyhole is supposed to go on the outside of the door. With what you did, Bellatrix would just lock us inside the house _

 

_ It was still installed, just the opposite way.  _

 

_ You’re so fucking stubborn. Are your students still whispering to the other? _

 

_ Of course they are. The only thing getting me through these last few hours is thinking of what I did to you in my office.  _

 

Her breath caught in her throat. Though every experience with him had trumped any of her ex boyfriends, the one in his office was one of the hottest. The thrill that someone could catch them, could walk in on them while he had her bent over his sofa, and fucking her until she begged -  it was simply probably the most rebellious thing she’d ever done. 

 

_ Oh?  _

 

_ It’s a rather good indication of what I’m going to do to you when I get home.  _

 

She  _ knew  _ it was silly for her to get butterflies when he said home. This might be a relationship, but he’d basically had no choice except for her to stay with him. Or, that’s what she told herself as a way to avoid getting her hopes up. But she played along with his game. 

 

_ What are you going to do to me, Tom? _

 

_ You’ll have to do something for me in return for me telling you. I want to see you. Take some pictures of yourself for me.  _

 

Hermione grinned, setting her laptop on the table, and her phone on the cushion beside her before wiggling out her top, and unzipping her jeans, pushing them down only enough to show her knickers. The set was white, and lace, and absolutely something that Tom had purchased for her. 

Situating herself against the armrest - she’d rather not look like she had a double chin, thanks - Hermione held her phone out, and took a picture. It was mild compared to what she would surely be sending in a few minutes. It was just of her, including her face and that alone spoke of how  much she trusted him, smiling and she’d been able to hold the phone high enough where he would be able to see her tits, and her waist. 

 

But she didn’t wait for him to reply, she reveled in the power too much to quit. She imagined how he would be sitting at his desk, opening these, and how hard his cock would be. It would drive him insane, and it wasn’t like she got this power over him to often. But here she was, laying on their couch while he couldn’t get to her for at least three hours - and she was going to tease the fuck out of him. 

 

Reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra, she let it fall to the floor beside her, before she pushed her jeans down, kicking them into the floor. She took another picture, this time cupping her breast. 

 

_ Fucking Christ, you little witch.  _

 

_ I think you like me like this.  _

 

_ I’d like you bent over my desk, so I could fuck you until you were begging for mercy. Are you wet, Hermione? Is your cunt dripping for me?  _

 

_ Yes. If only you were here. I’ll have to take care of myself.  _ She sent another photo, this time posing as if she were reaching into her knickers. And another after she’d take them off, and spread her legs.  _ What were you going to do to me? _

 

_ I think I’ll spank you until you can’t sit down for teasing me.  _

 

_ You asked me for photos, Tom. You brought this on yourself.  _

 

She jumped when the phone rang in her hand, Tom’s name and that little heart popping up on the screen. Sure it was an accident, she answered tentatively. “Hello?” 

 

There was a rustling in the background, and then the sound of a door closing. She assumed it was the door leading into his office. “You fucking tease,” he rasped, and her fingers moved over her clit. “Are you touching yourself, Hermione? Are you going to play with you sweet, little cunt because I’m not there?” 

 

She whimpered before the reality of the situation came crashing down on her. “Aren’t you at work?” She hissed. “This is hardly the time to be having phone sex, especially when -” 

 

“Don’t lecture me,” he snapped, and while she knew he wasn’t angry - it was all in the tone of his voice - her mouth closed immediately. “Lockhart is watching my class, which means most of those exams won’t be done by the time I get back. I’m sure he’ll have them write an essay on the topic of his brilliance,” 

 

“Oh, is that what I have to look forward to next semester? Is he really so brilliant?” 

 

_ “Hermione, _ ” Tom groaned softly. “I’m in my office with the door locked. No one can hear me, so I’m going to talk to you now.” 

 

“Okay,” she whispered, and nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “I wish you were here.” 

 

He chuckled lowly as she imagined he was taking a seat in his leather chair. “It’s only a few hours, and then I’m going to come home and fuck you. Do you understand?” 

 

“Obviously,” 

 

“Is your cunt dripping?” 

 

Not pointing out that he’d already asked this question, Hermione answered, “Yes - Tom?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“I’m going to video call you, so when I do, turn down the volume. I’d rather not fuck myself and your students hear it.” A shiver ran down her spine when she saw his face, and that fucking smirk twisting his lips. “Hi.” Suddenly shy, she wasn’t sure what to say. 

 

“Hermione, I want you to do exactly what I say.” A nod. “Taste yourself for me.” 

 

Her fingers barely brushed against her clit as she slid two fingers inside of herself, attempting to curl her fingers against her walls like he did. Her eyes closed when a low moan escaped her, and really, she forgot what she was supposed to be doing, because she was too busy fucking herself with her fingers. 

 

Until he cleared his throat. “Hermione.” 

 

Opening her eyes, she did not break eye contact as her tongue slid against her fingers, and she went as far to suck on them, cleaning them of her juices. “You should really be here; it’s better when you do it.” 

 

“Soon enough, but for now I want to watch you make yourself come.” 

 

Her eyes widened. “Will you?” 

 

He shook his head. “I’d stain my pants, and I can’t very well go out there with a come stain on my trousers.” 

 

Hermione stood from the couch, making her way into the bedroom where she grabbed a few things to prop her phone on top of so he could see her while she lay on the bed. “Oh,” she called, not even thinking of how it might break the moment. “There was still some broken glass in the kitchen. I cleaned it this morning.” 

 

“Cut yourself?” 

 

“Shut up, Tom,” she laughed, climbing onto the bed, and propping her phone against the two layer stack of books. 

 

Leaning against the pillows she’d pushed up against the headboard, Hermione drew her knees closer to her chest, and reached between her legs. “Look at me,” he growled.

 

Hermione held eye contact while she rubbed her clit, her other hand reached up to cup her breast, and to pinch her nipple roughly. “Fuck,” 

 

“Fucking hell, I could leave work.” He muttered, and she laughed. “When I get home, I won’t be gentle.”

 

“Good,” she gasped. “I don’t want gentle.” 

 

He smirked. “What do you want?” 

 

She wanted to complain that she really couldn’t focus on these two particular things at once. “I want you bending me over, and slamming into me. While you’re pulling my hair, and whispering how I’m a dirty slut for you.” 

 

“Are you my dirty little slut, Hermione?” 

 

If it weren’t so goddamn hot, she would have pointed out that she was not a slut, but this fantasy with him - it was all consuming. “Yes.” She moaned, her fingers swiping over her clit with just the right amount of pressure. ‘I’m coming.” 

 

He grinned. “Stop right now.” From the force in his voice, her hand fell away from herself, and she whined. The sound was guttural. “If you’re really a good slut for me, you’ll wait until I get home.” 

 

“That’s not bloody fair!” She whimpered, her fingers moving towards her dripping cunt once more, but she stopped. “You’d better make it worth it.” 

 

“I’ll fuck you rougher than I ever have if you think you can handle it. Don’t put your clothes back on. I want you waiting for me when I get home.” 

 

‘Okay,” she whispered, and he told her he really needed to get back. The words that nearly fell from her lips threatened to burn her tongue.

* * *

 

When he told her not to put her clothes back on, well, she hadn’t. What she had done was lay in his - their - bed, and watch another documentary while she laid on her stomach. Her phone vibrated, and she flicked the screen open, her eyes widening when she looked at the message. 

 

_ Ron knows about Riddle, and it went about as well as you would expect. Also, now that everyone knows, how would the pair of you feel about coming over tonight for dinner? Mum wants us home over break, so we’d love to celebrate tonight. Tom included.  _

 

“Oh, fuck,” she groaned, tossing her phone down. It slid from the sheets, tumbling into the floor. ‘Son of a -” 

 

Reaching for it though, Tom’s voice took her by surprise even though she knew he was due home any second. “What are you upset about?” 

 

She shrieked, jumping in the same moment, and falling over the other side of the bed. Squeezing her eyes shut at his loud chuckling, Hermione peeked at him with one eye to see him standing above her. “You shouldn’t scare me. It isn’t nice.” 

 

He rolled his eyes. “I come home at the same time everyday, Hermione.” He held his arm out, offering his hand to help her to her feet. Tom grabbed her phone, looking at the screen to see just what had made her curse so loudly. 

 

“Do you understand now?” She muttered as his eyebrows shot up. “I’m surprised he hasn’t called me yet, really.” 

 

He nodded, tapping the screen. “He’s just texted you.” 

 

“He  _ what? _ ” She screeched. “Let me see!” Hermione’s eyes narrowed when he turned away from her, typing a reply. “Tom, let me see what you’re saying before - oh my fucking God, you told them we would have dinner with them?” She looked horrified as she took in his ridiculous shit eating grin. 

 

“I even offered to help cook. If I’ve learned anything in dating you, it’s that you are not the most wonderful cook.” 

 

“Oh, my God,” she groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Ron is a hothead, and-” 

 

He kissed her, gripping her hips and drawing her into him while flattening his palm against the small of her back. Her arguments were muffled, and he nipped her bottom lip. “We’re going to dinner with your friends. It’s not as if they weren’t going to find out.” He murmured, picking her up and carrying her to the bed. “We might as well spend the next two hours doing-” 

 

“Shut up,” she muttered, yanking him down by his tie, and biting where his shoulder met his neck. “You are most certainly going to regret this when Ron does something extraordinarily stupid, like strike you.” 

 

His laugh was deliciously dark. “A blessing in disguise if I get the chance to break his nose after reading all of his essays. Essays that all have a trace of your involvement. But before we worry about any of that..” His finger slid across her clit, and he kissed across her collarbone as she whimpered. 

 

“Oh, fuck.” She grinded against his hand. “As good as - I don’t want the foreplay, Tom.” She gasped. 

 

“Thank fuck for that,” he growled in her ear, dropping her against the bed, and untying his tie. “Do you trust me?” A nod. “I want to try something.” 

 

She grinned. “If it involves that tie, the answer is absolutely yes.” 

 

Tom leaned over her, taking her hands, and looping the silk tie around them, and then tying it to the post. “I want you to think of a word,” she grinded against him where his knee was wedged between her thighs. “that I want you to use if this is too much for you.” 

 

Hermione looked up at the black fabric holding her wrists together, tugging experimentally. “Um,” she glanced around the room, trying to think of something on the spot. The very first thing she thought of was Ron’s name and while it would effectively destroy whatever mood there was, she didn’t bother. “Mirror?” 

 

Tom didn’t waste time with undressing. All he did was unzip his trousers, taking his thick cock in his hand, and Hermione tried to move closer to him. He teased her instead, the head of his cock rubbing against her folds. “Tom,” she whined. 

 

Her hands jerked away from the bedpost, the fabric rubbing deliciously against her wrists when he put her legs over his hips, and slammed into her. WIth his thumb pressed flat against her clit, rubbing in slow circles, Hermione shook below him. 

 

She expected him to tease her, to almost make her come before pulling away, but that wasn't what happened at all. No, he wanted to push her over the edge so many times she wouldn’t be able to walk.

* * *

 

Hermione grabbed the red dress she’d worn to the wedding of Ron’s older brother from the back of the closet. Her clothes were still jumbled at best, but the bursts of color gave away which side was hers. She stepped into the dress, drawing it over her shoulders, and asking Tom to zip it up, but the smirk should have given away that he meant trouble. 

 

His lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “I’m having second thoughts about going. I’d much rather spend my night in that bed with you.” 

 

She snorted. “Flattery will get you nowhere now, Tom. You can suffer through this evening and then you can make it up to me because this is a horrendous idea. Christmas dinner with four of your students -” 

 

“One of them is my girlfriend,” he lingered on the word, knowing exactly how she felt when it crossed his lips. Which was utterly stupid considering she was twenty five years old, and she’d had multiple boyfriends, thank you. 

 

“And one of them is my ex boyfriend!” She added. 

 

“Perhaps I’ll accidentally slip and choke him.” Tom said, picking up the cufflinks from the dresser. “I doubt they’re so well dressed,” 

 

She shook her head. “They won’t be, but I want to see you in a suit.” Her lips curved into a grin. “I can’t help it. There’s something about a man in a suit.” She shrugged. “Would you please zip up the dress now?” Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder to keep her balance as she stepped into her heels. 

 

Tom led her through the living room, swatting her arse when she bent over to grab her handbag from the couch. Flipping the lights off as they stepped outside of the door, he locked it behind them before walking ahead of her. She was struck the the idle reminder that neither Ron nor Krum had acted like gentlemen. Yet Tom took her by the hand and led her down the hallway. 

 

But then when the elevator closed, he pushed her to the wall to kiss her roughly, and dip his fingers into her knickers, rubbing her clit, and clamping his hand over her mouth. With the ding signaling they had reached the parking garage, he stepped away from her, licking his fingers. “You look ravishing.” 

 

She nodded, her voice caught in her throat. Sliding her fingers through his, they waited for the door to finally open, and she gasped. “It’s snowing?” Hermione’s hand slipped from his as she rushed forward to look over the cement barrier. “I thought it wasn’t due for another few days.” 

 

Tom stepped up behind her, and in the darkness of the parking garage, kissed her neck softly. “We need to get going, or we’ll be late.” 

 

She nodded, her hand coming up to rest on his as he squeezed her shoulder. “They’re probably already thinking we will be late because we’re shagging.” 

 

He snorted. “I don’t like to be rushed.” Tom opened the passenger side door for her, the corners of his lips quirked up. “Will you always be surprised that I do things like this?” 

 

Her cheeks flushed against the cold air. “Maybe, I’m not sure. It’s not as if any other boyfriend I’ve ever had was the perfect gentleman.” 

 

Tom laughed, “I have my faults.” Closing the door, he walked around the car. The drive to Ginny and Harry’s flat took fifteen minutes, every minute of which he sneaked his hand across the car, and under her dress. 

 

It would have been wise to smack his hand away - she didn’t want to sit through dinner with her closest friends while her knickers were soaked - but from the first whimper that left her, Tom’s fingers slid into her. “You are the worst,” she snapped, grabbing his forearm. 

 

He smirked. “Am I? You’re enjoying yourself, but if you want to orgasm, I suggest -” The moment he pulled into the parking lot, and parked the car, she climbed over the seat and into his lap. “Is this really the time?” 

 

She rolled her eyes. “Like you’re complaining. Besides,” she tugged on his tie. “They’re not expecting us for another twenty minutes.” Tom’s fingers slid under the hem of her dress, sliding along her bare thigh until they brushed against her clit through white lace. “And,” she breathed. “You promised me you would make me come.” 

 

“Did I?” He murmured. “Surely that wouldn’t have slipped my mind - Ginny is calling you.” He said, looking down to see her phone vibrating in his cup holder. 

 

“Tom,”  she argued, but he answered anyway, bringing the phone to his ear. 

 

“Hello?” He said, his fingers sliding inside of her and curling against her walls. He smirked when she whimpered, and there was little doubt Ginny had overheard. 

 

Yet there was silence, and then an angry outburst of “Oi, what the fuck, are you shagging her outside of the flat?” 

 

Hermione’s eyes flew open at the sound of Ron’s voice, biting down on her bottom lip harshly when Tom tried to drag another moan from her. “I’m not fucking her. I can see why the two of you split, beyond your infidelity, if you believe the only way to pleasure a woman is to fuck her.” 

 

“Oh, my  _ God. _ ” Hermione groaned, tearing the phone from his hand, and putting it to her ear. “Ron?” 

 

“For fuck’s sake, Mione, he’s our professor -” 

 

“Well,” she drawled, her hair falling into her face. “Not anymore technically. He was our professor, but when the new semester arrives we’ll have Lockhart. And it’s not like I’ll be dating him.” 

 

“But Riddle?” She knew his mouth had probably fallen open, and she could already imagine it while Ginny was probably too busy laughing to take her mobile back. 

 

“I will see you in a minute.” 

 

“Perhaps more than a minute,” Tom intentionally murmured to her, speaking almost directly into the phone. He took her phone and tossed it into the passenger seat, pressing her to him by the small of her back. 

 

But she placed her palms flat against his chest, and told him no, absolutely not. “I’m not going to stay in your car like teenagers while the windows fog up, Tom. Especially when there is no doubt that they’re watching through the window.” She snatched her handbag, and phone before opening his door, and crawling out. 

 

It was so rare that she felt she saw a genuine smile on his face, that she was guilty of staring as he straightened his jacket in front of her. “Shall I climb the fire escape for old time’s sake?” He asked dryly. 

 

She snorted. “Maybe you should fuck me in the shower too then. Come on, I’m sure they’re anxious to see how this goes.” 

 

He caught her by her elbow, ducking down to kiss her softly. “You really are stunning.” 

 

Hermione blinked, her heart clenching, and nodded. “Tom -” 

 

“Would the two of you stop snogging and hurry up?” Ron yelled from overhead, and she glanced up to see him leaned out a window, wearing his crimson red Weasley sweater. Harry was beside him, wearing the same. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, and then kissed Tom for good measure.

* * *

 

It was clear Ginny had lectured her brother and her boyfriend before they arrived, because Harry did not say one word. Ron, bless him, tried to keep his mouth shut, but it didn’t last long. 

 

“Wait, so you’re the one who was in the room with Hermione when her mother was here? Bloody hell, you called her daughter a slut! Mione, can you imagine the look on her face if she’d known it was your professor you were shagging?” Ron was talking too fast, slurring his own words as he drank eggnog. 

 

Eggnog that Hermione was certain he’d spiked himself for absolutely no fucking reason. 

 

“Maybe we could not make the topic of the night my sex life, yeah?” Hermione muttered, hopping to sit on top of the counter while Tom and Ginny flitted around the kitchen. 

 

_ “Also _ ,” Ron began, motioning from her to Tom, “Isn’t this backwards? It’s usually the woman who is the one cooking and - fuck, Riddle, could you watch where you’re throwing shite?” Ron stared down at the knife that had nearly struck him in the side. 

 

The edge of his lip lifted upward as he cast a glance to Hermione. “I was.” 

 

“So, tell us how this happened,” Harry said, straining for politeness. “Ginny says this was who you met that night at the club?” 

 

Hermione nodded, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter, the underside biting into her skin. “Yes,” she was hesitant to say anything, considering she knew this politeness would soon end, and one of them, Ron, would say something out of line. And Tom - she didn’t completely trust him to not strike either of them really. “It was going on for a bit, a few weeks before the term started.” 

 

Harry nodded, his fingers gripping his tumbler of whiskey tightly. “And then - oh, for fuck’s sake, you were sexting  _ him  _ the day Ron shattered your mobile?” 

 

Her cheeks heated up, remembering her state of undress. “That’s correct.” 

 

“And then - oh, fuck,” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling harshly. 

 

“..what?” She was hesitant to hear what else he’d finally pieced together. 

 

“Riddle was the one going down on you when I barged in that time.” 

 

She squeaked, a pitifully high sound, as her cheeks flushed bright red, nearly the color of her dress. Tom chuckled beside her, his fingers brushing over her knee cap as he moved for another knife. “Okay, that’s enough of my sex life. What time is Molly expecting you?” 

 

“Expecting us, you mean -” Ron started. 

 

“Shut up!” Ginny yelled. “We agreed to gradually bring that up. There’s no need to overwhelm her when we haven’t even eaten yet.” 

 

Hermione disagreed immediately. “No, just what is going on now?” 

 

Ron couldn’t handle booze; he’d never been able to, which she’d always considered to be a surprise. “Mum invited you to dinner.” 

 

“That’s hardly,” she began, her shoulders falling in relief. 

 

Ron took another swig of eggnog. “She invited Riddle too. She’s thrilled you’ve found someone, and told me I should have been more mature.” 

 

Silence fell over the apartment, aside from the sound of Tom dicing an onion. He didn’t make so much as a sound to give away how he felt about the revelation. Hermione blinked, her mouth opening and closing is disbelief. Surely she’d just heard him wrong, and he hadn’t - 

 

“I think you broke Hermione.” Harry whispered, bringing the tumbler to his lips once more, taking small sips. “I’ve never seen her rendered speechless.” 

 

“You told your mother that  _ I’m dating our professor? _ ” She shrieked, sliding down from the counter, and storming over to Ron. She grabbed him by the shell of his ear, glaring at him. “You had better be bloody kidding, Ronald Weasley.” 

 

He wouldn’t stop laughing. “Mione, she’s rather happy for you. I’m...obviously not, but she reminded me that I should try to be civil,” 

 

“I don’t give a goddamn if you’re civil right now! That woman was nearly my mother in law, and she no doubt thinks I’m some kind of harlot.” Hermione seethed. Molly was, well she was a bit of a right cunt if she were honest. When Hermione had dumped Ron before his mother had a chance to know it was for cheating, it hadn’t been so pretty. 

 

There was a clang as the knife fell into the sink, and then “I didn’t know you were nearly engaged to him.” Tom spoke calmly, leaning against the counter. 

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That’s not important.” 

 

Ron argued anyway, tugging on her arm to pull her attention back to her. “It’s no big deal, Hermione. Half the time, I’m sure she liked you more than me.” 

 

Harry snorted, the sound echoing inside the glass of his cup. “Hard to imagine why. Oi, Ron, tell her how you need help with maths.” He elbowed Tom in the ribs, his animosity dissipating for a moment. “Watch this; she’s going to lose her mind.” 

 

Ron’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yeah, I needed your help with maths.” 

 

“I gathered, but is a Christmas dinner really the time for it? I’m too busy scolding you to tutor you anyway, and -” 

 

Ron ignored her completely. “Flitwick gave me the weirdest look when I told him I couldn’t figure out the M.O.” Hermione stared at him, her eyes blank. “You know, like the method of operations?” 

 

It wasn’t the first time she’d ever heard Tom laugh, but she couldn’t help the giggle that left her when his laugh echoed around the apartment. “How were you ever admitted to university?” 

 

“Mione is a genius,” 

 

“She hates the nickname Mione,” Tom said flatly. 

 

“Ron..” Hermione rubbed her temples. “Do you mean the order of operations?” 

 

Ginny clapped her hands together, a move that screamed Molly Weasley. “Let’s just eat before one of us blows a gasket.” 

 

When the food was laid out, Ginny sheepishly admitted that she had burnt the turkey, and she’d opted for chicken. Chicken that she had not made, and Harry’s mum had helped out instead. Because she preferred to be able eat her dinner. It was small, like it had been since they had entered university. And that was how she liked it, but this was the most awkward event of her life. It was worse than taking Tom to meet her parents. Which she tried to put out of her mind. 

 

If the earth could just open up and swallow her whole, that would have been better than poking at her food while Ginny attempted to make small talk. The entire thing was so bloody awkward that she wanted to die. But goddamn if she didn’t  _ try _ to make Tom feel included. It was on topic after another: rugby, ‘oh, how is grading going? It’s not like you were also marking up our final exams as well.’ And cue the awkward laugh. 

 

“This mash potato is really good. What did you do, Tom?” Ginny asked.

 

Hermione choked when Tom said without a moment of hesitation “I put it in the microwave.” 

 

“Right.” Ginny muttered, pushing her food around her plate. “Will you visit your mum, Hermione?” 

 

Shaking her head, she grabbed her glass. “After the last time I saw her? I doubt it; I might call her on Christmas, but I can’t imagine going to see her.” 

 

“Do the two of you have any plans? Any romantic getaways for your girlfriend, Tom? What - are all of our phones going off at the same time?”

 

Hermione’s phone vibrated in the kitchen, and she could hear it from where she sat. Her eyebrows knitting together, she looked at everyone. “It must be something for uni, what is it?” Her hand rested on Tom’s upper thigh, where it had been for the entirety of the dinner, but suddenly he was completely still under her touch. 

 

As Harry opened the message, she assumed it was a message, his eyes widened behind the wire frames of his glasses. “Shite, Hermione, I think it can wait until the night is over. It’s just the course schedule for the new semester.” Ron leaned over to peek at the screen, and Harry clapped a hand over his mouth as he went to speak. “Really, it’s just boring paperwork probably.” 

 

“Fuck that.” Ginny said, handing her phone to Hermione before glaring pointedly at Tom. “Would you care to explain why Hermione is under the impression that Professor Lockhart is our new professor when he’s clearly fucking not?” 

 

Slowly, the words sunk in as she stared at the small, but cracked digital screen. It was stated right there that Gilderoy Lockhart was not her professor for the next semester. No,  _ Tom Riddle  _ was printed across the screen, and somehow, even though it was melodramatic, she could feel her heart break in her chest. It felt like with each breath, she was going to suddenly burst into tears. 

 

“Tom, what is this?” She whispered quietly, not even bothering to look up at him. If she did, she knew she would cry, and Hermione refused to cry. “Tom, you told me that you weren’t going to be my professor.” 

 

He didn’t reach for her, and she couldn’t decide if that would have made it worse, or if it hurt her that he didn’t attempt comfort. “I think we should leave, and discuss it at home.” He replied, his voice even, but it sounded as if he was about to break too. 

 

Hermione’s head snapped up, and she slid Ginny’s phone across the table into her waiting hand. Ron had fallen silent, watching on. “No,” she spat out, perhaps too forcefully, but she was too angry to care. “I think I’d like to talk about it now, in my old room here. I’m sure you can remember where it is.” She stood, brushing her dress down, and excused herself. Her heels clicked against the tile, the harsh sound softening as she stormed across the carpeted floors. 

 

She hadn’t bothered to look over her shoulder to be sure he was following, because if he hadn’t been it would have wounded her pride more than she cared to admit. As the door shut behind her, and he stepped towards her, she caved. “You lied to me.” 

 

He looked at her as if he expected her to scream, and as if the broken tone her voice had taken hurt him more. And as much as she wanted to believe she held that effect over him, she didn’t think that at all. “When Bellatrix went to Dumbledore, that’s when he changed my classes. It was not planned, and I have not been lying to you for months.” 

 

Hermione shook her head. “No, but you lied to me when I trusted you the most. It’s five more months, Tom! Five fucking months of hiding, and sneaking around, when I told you that I didn’t want to be your secret.” 

 

He flinched as if she’d slapped him. “In the grand scheme of things, it’s nothing, Hermione.” 

 

“It is  _ everything _ to me!” She screamed, and when the first tear rolled down her cheek, there was no stopping the ones that followed. “Why would you lie to me? Have I ever given you a reason to feel like you couldn’t tell me the truth?” 

 

He gripped her by the shoulders, peering down at her. “I wanted you to move in with me.” Tom said simply, as if it was the easiest thing he had ever admitted. “I wanted you to live with me. I wanted to wake up to you everyday, despite never feeling like that in my life. I wanted you there, and then Bellatrix fucked everything up, and -” 

 

She wanted to fling herself at him, to hug him tightly because it was everything she wanted to hear, but no. Hermione stared at the ceiling, trying to blink away her tears. “You should have told me then. After everything we went through with her trashing your fucking flat? Why would you bloody lie to me, Tom? All this week I’ve thought we would finally,  _ finally  _ go somewhere without having to hide. Did you realize that you were leading me on in that?” 

 

“Hermione-” 

 

“I want to know why!” It was a scream, and everything else in the flat fell silent. Her friends that she knew were probably listening with their ears against the door, and their muted whispers having dissipated. “Why would you lie to me so I would move in with you? Did you think I would leave?” 

 

“Do you want to know why?” He yelled, throwing his hand out to the side. “I didn’t want you to leave. Out of all the people, it was you. You with your morals, and your just - fucking inherent goodness, and I didn’t want to lose you. That’s why I fucking lied.” Raking his fingers through his hair, Hermione had never seen this much emotion from him. 

 

It was a whisper. “Why would you be afraid I would leave? I don’t..I don’t understand at all.” 

 

If she thought she’d lost her temper when she started yelling at him once they had stepped into the room, she wasn’t sure how to describe him now. His eyes darkened, and he bit down on his bottom lip hard, his hands curling into fists. As if he wasn’t used to holding in his temper, and as if he was going to lash out at every piece of furniture in the room. 

 

And there was absolutely nothing that could have prepared her for the words that left his mouth. “Because I love you!” He yelled, knocking a lamp from the dresser, and he winced when she jumped in surprise. “Out of everyone it could have been, it was you, and I didn’t want to lose you. So I lied.” 

 

“Tom!” She shouted when he turned away from her, yanking his arm out of reach, and wrenching the door open. He pushed past Harry, who tried to force him back into the room, but it was only seconds later that the front door slammed shut.

 

She wasn’t emotional, she wasn’t. She never had been, but still, Hermione burst into tears and remained frozen to the spot. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GASP - A CLIFF HANGER.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably the worst person because I said I wouldn't leave you for a month. Life happens. Technically I'm on hiatus, but I just got this back from beta, so here we are. I was going to end this in this chapter, but all I actually ended up doing was adding 20k to the plot. Thanks to someone in the tomione discord because it helped me a lot! I'm sick, so I'm going back to sleep after uploading, but I can't wait to see what you think when I wake up.

Everything happened quickly - Harry saying that he was going to try to stop Riddle before he even had the chance to get out of the parking lot, Ron doing quite literally nothing because he was drunk, and Ginny sweeping into the room, and setting her on the bed before she could collapse. 

 

“Hermione, breathe.” She murmured, grasping her by the shoulders. “Don’t you want to go after him?” She asked gently, brushing Hermione’s hair over her shoulder. “He won’t have made it out of the parking lot by now.” 

 

“He said it, didn’t he?” She hiccuped, clutching her chest, the area right over her heart. “Oh, my God, tell me I didn’t imagine he said that.” 

 

Ginny shook her head. “No, I’m afraid you heard him correctly. Have the two of you talked about this before?” 

 

Hermione leaned forward, her curls falling forward again. “No, we hadn’t, but I’ve almost said it so many times. I hadn’t thought he would - oh, my God, what have I done?” 

 

Ginny snorted, ill timed, and she recovered quickly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Hermione. He shouldn’t have lied to you, but I think you need to go to him, and discuss this like adults. You’re more than welcome to stay the night here, but -” 

 

Hermione combed her fingers through her hair, muttering under her breath. “No, no, I need to see him, but I have no idea what to say. Ginny, what do I say?” 

 

“Do you love him?” Her friend asked, not padding the question at all as she looked down at Hermione. “Come on, Granger. I know this is hardly the situation you could have wanted, but love comes out of nowhere sometimes, don’t you think?” 

 

“Like in a club with my professor?” Hermione said dryly. There was a loud smack. “Did you just..did you just fucking hit me?” She snapped, rubbing her stinging cheek. “What the fuck, Weasley?” 

 

“Answer my question - do you love him, flaws, and all?” 

 

“Obviously,” she snarled. “I just don’t see why you had to hit me for me to admit it. I would have said it either way, you know.” Ginny grabbed her by the wrist, snatching the tub of makeup wipes from the vanity in the spare room before leading her to the door. 

 

She grabbed the keys from where they hung by the doorway, leading Hermione out the front door and down the metal stairs that were not covered by a thin layer of ice. Her redheaded best friend was mumbling to herself, and they passed Harry, who was bent over while panting on the sidewalk. 

 

“I couldn’t catch him. Or - well, I did, but he knocked me flat on my arse, so that went well.” He told them, scratching the back of his head. “Taking her to him, I assume?” Harry asked Ginny. 

 

“He hit you?” Hermione gasped.

 

“Yes,” Ginny told him, not bothering to fret over him. “And really, with the way he took off, I feel you should have expected him to retaliate if you grabbed him.” She rolled her eyes, pressing the button of her key fob, the car lights blinking as it unlocked. 

 

Hermione took the back seat while Harry slid into the passenger seat, his girlfriend unwilling to hand over the keys to  _ his _ car. “He didn’t really hit me.” He explained. “I grabbed his arm, which was a mistake I realize now, and he elbowed me in the nose. Barely got it to stop bleeding so quickly, but -” Ginny took a sharp turn out of the parking lot. “Slow down.” He grumbled. 

 

Hermione slumped in her seat, and her stomach was in knots. She didn’t have a clue what she was going to say to him, if she was going to just blurt out that she felt the same, that she was pretty sure she’d felt the same for weeks, and she knew it was too soon, and that this was all insane. And that they were asking for trouble with him being her professor, but there had never been a choice in whether she’d stay with him. 

 

And she also knew that she would probably say all of those things as she rambled uncontrollably. Hermione tried to think of a way to apologize for yelling in his face, and confronting him when she could have waited to discuss it at home. 

 

The drive took Ginny four minutes, and if that didn’t show how serious she was about Hermione going up to Tom’s flat to fix this shit, she didn’t know what would. “Listen to me, Hermione,” she muttered, slamming the gear shift into park, and turning to face her. “You’re going to go up there, and the two of you will work this out, okay? He’s so fucking in love with you that I had assumed he’d already told you. And after you fix this, and have wonderful sex that I will not be having because I have to babysit my drunk brother, you tell Tom Riddle to call me.” 

 

“Um, why?” Hermione ventured. 

 

“Because I am going to tear into his ass for lying to you regardless. Now go. Quickly. I can only imagine how he’s reacting.” 

 

Hermione nodded, opening the car door, and clutching her purse in her hand. She wasn’t sure how Tom would be reacting either. For so long, she hadn’t seen many of his emotions beyond lust, and sheer protectiveness, but the way his face crumbled when he admitted it to her. She hurried into the building, pressing the buttons in the elevator too many times, but when the doors finally opened on her floor, she rushed down the hallway. 

 

She dug around in her purse for the key to the flat, tiwisting it inside the lock with trembling hands. Tossing her purse onto the couch, she made her way across the living room, and into their bedroom. The scene that waited for her cut her deeply. 

 

Tom was packing her things, folding her clothes neatly into the suitcase she’d used when he moved all of her things in. It hit her right in the gut, and attempting to blink away the tears didn’t work, and he flinched at her garbled, “I’ll pack my things. I’d like to leave with some kind of dignity rather than you kicking me out.” 

 

“ _ What? _ ” Tom exclaimed, dropping the shirt that had been in his hand. “That’s not what this is, Hermione I would never kick you out.” 

 

She snorted, wiping her face. The side of her hand was stained with mascara, so she could only imagine how her face looked. If she’d been more put together she would have used the make up wipes Ginny had grabbed for her. “Really? That’s exactly what this looks like.” 

 

“You might be one of the most intelligent women I’ve ever met, but you are fucking dense, Hermione.” He growled, slamming her suitcase shut. Tom stormed to her, his long legs closing the gap in two strides, and he towered over her. From the look on his face, she wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle her, or to snog her senseless. “I just blurted that I love you, and you think I could bear the thought of you leaving me?” 

 

His words knocked the wind out of her. Her hands trembled at her sides as she peered up at him, and no, she’d never seen him like this. Tom was always put together. She’d never noticed a hair out of place unless she was the one who’d run her fingers through it. His suit was always pressed, and Hermione didn’t think he’d ever let his emotions show on his face a day in his life. 

 

Yet that was not at all the man in front of her. His suit was crumpled, probably from rifling through the dresser, and kneeling down to grab all of her shoes from their closet - admittedly there was a lot. His hair was tousled, and she couldn’t imagine a version of the man she loved carding his fingers through his hair out of anxiety. To say Tom Riddle looked vulnerable would have made her chuckle any other time, but -

 

“Tom.” She began softly, but he cut her off. 

 

“I know that you’re angry with me for lying to you. I can’t fault you for that, but I’ve given you my reasons, and I knew you wouldn’t want to stay here,” 

 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

 

He pressed on, ignoring her words, but he didn’t break his eyes away from her. “I was not kicking you out.” Tom maintained, and he moved to touch her, perhaps to brush the hair over her shoulder, but his hand dropped to his side. It gutted her. “I’ll pay for a hotel room for you; I know Bellatrix would probably try to fuck up whatever living arrangements you had, so this is the only option I could think of beyond -” 

 

Her lips parted. “You think you’ve screwed everything up, don’t you?” Hermione blurted, latching onto the lapels of his suit, and yanking him to her. “What a pair of fools are we.” She murmured. 

 

WIthout tilting her chin up to look at him fully, Tom’s chest shook as he replied. “How could I not believe I’ve fucked everything up? First you sweep into my life as if you’re something that I have always needed, and then you’re my student. And you give me all of these chances. You believe that I’m a good person, but I’m not. I’m selfish, and demanding,” Tom whispered, lifting her hands to press his lips to his knuckles. 

 

“You’re babbling.” She smiled, lifting her head up, and while he might never be the sort to show his emotions often, the lead in her stomach softened. Hermione’s fingers slipped under his tie, undoing the knot, and tugging it from around his neck. 

 

“It’s a first for me.” He rumbled, his hands settling on her waist. “I’ve fucked up extraordinarily, and you don’t have to stay with me. I would gladly pay for any living arrangements you wanted because I -” 

 

“I love you too.” She whispered, and everything else fell silent. His hands froze against her hips, her dress no longer making a sound as the fabric was bunched together. He opened his mouth to reply, but quickly snapped it shut as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. It was a chaste kiss, just a simple press of her lips to his, and he was too stunned to move. “I should have said it back there before you left. 

 

“I’m in love with you. I probably have been for weeks, and this is fucking insane.” 

 

“I love you.” He repeated, and her heart swelled. “Do you understand that? I’m so fucking in love with you, I’m surprised I could feel this much for one person.” 

 

She nodded. “And maybe we are asking for trouble, considering the ways that this could end badly outnumber the ways that this ends happily, but -” Hermione hadn’t realized that he’d been walking her backward the entire time, but as her back met the wall of their bedroom, she fell silent. “Even if it ends badly, I want you.” 

 

“No one will take you from me.” He whispered, kissing down her throat, and lifting her by her hips. “I wouldn’t let them.” 

 

She gasped as he bit down, her head knocking against the wall while she wrapped her legs around his waist. “I know that.” It was the only thing she could manage to say. 

 

Hermione cupped his face, kissing him roughly. With his fingers wound into her curls, that were mostly crushed at this point, Tom slowed his movements. His lips were soft against hers, and this was not at all like the passionate kisses that she was used to. This man had the ability to make her feel like flames were licking against her skin, but she couldn't recall a time that anyone had kissed her so slowly, or gently. 

 

Pulling her from the wall, cupping her arse, Tom walked toward the bed. His lips were still slanted against hers as the mattress dipped beneath his weight. He settled her in his lap,  slowly unzipping her dress, and letting it slip over her shoulders. “You’re beautiful.” He told her, kissing her feverishly. 

 

Hermione wiggled out of her dress, pulling it over her head, which looked silly, but his hands just roamed over each inch of skin as it was revealed. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything, to whisper those three little words just one more time, because it would shatter the silence. Whimpers fell from her as Tom slid his hands up her sides, cupping her breasts as his lips moved down her neck, and then sweeping across her collarbone. 

 

She was already wet; Hermione could feel her slickness against her thighs as she rocked against him - wishing he would just pull his cock from his trousers, and let her impale herself on his thick length. Yet no, in a true Tom like fashion, he teased her relentlessly, his fingers skimming over her heated flesh, at one point dipping his fingers into her folds. 

 

“Tom,” she groaned, letting her head fall forward. Resting her forehead against his shoulder, she cried out softly as he massaged her clit, bringing her off nearly instantly. “Please.” 

 

“Please what?” He captured her lips with his own, twisting them so he could lay her on her back. “We have all night, Hermione.” 

 

The thought had her rubbing her thighs together, desperate for friction. She whined, a needy sound that sounded nothing like her, and their neighbors surely heart it. “You know..” Hermione trailed off, looking up at him. There was a smile plastered to her face, and her hair was sticking to her skin from sweat. “You told me once that you wouldn’t give me love declarations.” 

 

He snorted, kissing up the inside of her thighs. Smirking at the way she shivered below him, Tom told her, “I suppose that was a lie. I hadn’t expected to fall in love with you.” 

 

Hermione’s heart clenched at knowing she might never tire of hearing it from him, of knowing - “Just expected a friend with benefits?” She teased. Bracing her palms against the soft mattress, she scooted up to where her back was against the headboard. 

 

Tom glanced up at her from between her legs as he parted them. His eyes were filled with mischief, and though he’d been smirking, she recognized playfulness. “One learns not to expect anything with Hermione Granger. You are a conundrum.” 

 

It made her laugh, a giggle that rose into a high pitched moan when his tongue slid against her slit. “Oh, fuck,” Hermione hissed, sliding her fingers into her curls that were completely fucked as her back arched. 

 

He preferred her like this, lost in the throes of passion as she writhed below him. Tom liked her hair as wild as it was, her skin as flushed as it was when she was begging for him to push her over the edge. It was a heady feeling, having all of the power over this woman’s pleasure, but not wanting to hold it over her head. He would rather leave her lazy in her satiation, and feel her draped over his chest. 

 

With a skilled flick of his tongue over the bundle of nerves that seemed to be coiled too tightly, she was unraveling below him. 

 

Panting wildly, Hermione grabbed him by his shoulders and rolled them over. Pressed against him, sliding her dripping cunt along the length of his hard cock, she was frantic in her movements. Sweat trailed down her spine as he wrapped his arms around her back, sliding his tongue between her breasts. Her skin was hot, salty against his tongue, and her perfume enveloped them both. “Tom.” Hermione gasped, her nails biting into his shoulders. “I’m really - oh my God - glad I met you that night.” 

 

He nodded, groaning when she tried to fill herself with his cock. “Not yet, love.” 

 

She trembled. “I love you. Fuck, I -” 

 

Tom recognized the panic clawing its way up, and his eyes widened. Fuck if he’d ever met a woman who worried as much as she did, and he knew it was likely that he’d reassure her several more times for as long as she would have him, not that he would ever let her go. But he accepted it for what it was, that this woman clearly had anxiety, and doubted her self worth. “Trust me.” Tom said quietly, easing her onto her back once more. 

 

“I want -” 

 

“- to be in control.” He finished for her, arching an eyebrow when her mouth snapped shut. “Trust me, Hermione. Lie back on the bed for me.” 

 

Hermione tied her hair up to get it out of her face, piling it into a messy looking knot on the top of her head. “Okay,” she conceded quietly. “But why?” 

 

He might have laughed if the vulnerability wasn’t so etched into her face, and it stuck him  _ again  _ the kind of hurt she’d experienced in the past. “I am not..an emotional man.” Tom admitted. “The best way for me to show you how deep my own emotions feel might be physically.” Not that he wanted to sound like he’d stepped out of a romance novel, but what the fuck else was he supposed to say? “Let me take care of you, Hermione. Let me make love to you like you’ve always deserved.” 

 

“You’re going to make me cry.” 

 

He stomped down the urge to ask her not to, realizing she wouldn’t take his dry humor well right this second. She gasped as he slid into her, clutching his forearms, and he couldn’t have torn his eyes away from her if he wanted to. She was intoxicating with her breaths coming in short whimpers, the tips of her breasts rosy as her chest rose and fell, and with each thrust, he understood why anyone chased love. 

 

Which he knew was a chemical reaction of dopamine, and, he blanked quite possibly for the first time in his life when she wrapped her arms around his neck, and tugged him closer. So small in the curve of his body, she shook with each thrust, and mumbled into his shoulder, “I’m hopelessly in love with you, did you know that?” 

 

Tom laughed, brushing her bangs from her face as he scooped her up, bouncing her on his cock. “I know.” He bottomed out inside of her. “I love you.” 

 

Yes, he supposed he understood it all when her legs tightened around him, the walls of her cunt clenching his cock as her back arched as she shrieked his name louder than she ever had before. The tightening of her cunt was enough to make him come, and he spilled inside of her. And in muted whispers, with her pulled tight to him, he murmured what he thought about falling in love with her. 

 

That perhaps it was like lightning, never striking in the same place twice, but once was enough for him. 

* * *

When Hermione thought of it, it was the day before Christmas. Granted she hadn’t had a Christmas tree in years, but she thought of how likely it was Tom had never decorated one. Nudging him in his ribs in the early morning hours, she propped her head up, resting her elbow on the pillow. “Tom.” She whispered, pressing a feather light kiss to the top of his cheek bone. “Wake up.”

 

“Go back to sleep, Granger.” He murmured, slipping his arm under her and yanking her into him. “It’s a holiday break. You don’t have to rise with the sun.” 

 

The corner of her lip quirked up. “I have a question for you, a request really.” 

 

He cracked one eye open, clearly intrigued. “Alright.” Tom loosened his grip as she sat up, slumping against the headboard. 

 

She grinned as he laid his head on her naked chest, throwing an arm across her middle. “Were you planning on buying me a gift for Christmas?” She asked. “Not that you need to, but there’s a point to my asking.” 

 

He nodded his head. “Already bought it.” 

 

“Oh,” she mumbled, running her fingers through his hair. “I was going to ask if you would do something with me - it could be my gift though. If you’re already bought something..” 

 

Tom scoffed. “I’m not hurting for money, Hermione. I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

 

“I would like a Christmas tree.” She told him quietly, and he stilled. “I haven’t had one in years, and I’d never been happy to celebrate a holiday until now, but we don’t have to. If you don’t like the holiday,” 

 

He shook with laughter as he looked up at her. “It’s nice to see that the universe is back in natural order now that you’re the one babbling again. We can get a tree.” Tom paused, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “And decorations, I assume,” 

 

She shrieked, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. Hermione didn’t even stop when he gasped for air through his laughter. “Thank you.” 

 

“We’ll have to make quite a drive if you want to go together.” He managed between ragged breaths. 

 

Hermione pondered that. “Would it be worth that risk?” 

 

“I’m taking you out for this fucking Christmas tree, end of story.” He growled, rolling her onto her back.

* * *

 

She picked out everything, and she was perfectly fine with that. 

 

Tom however was watching her curiously as if he’d never seen someone smile so much before. She caught him chuckling to himself more than once as she looked through all of the boxes to find the perfect tree. 

 

“Wouldn’t you want a real tree?” 

 

“They’re out, Tom. Plus did you bring anything to strap it down to the top of your car?” Hermione asked as she dragged the biggest box out from the metal shelving. “I’ve got it,” she muttered, pulling one last time and she fell right on her arse. 

 

“No, I didn’t.” He laughed, his head tilting back and his laugh echoing in the almost empty store. 

 

She glared at him, climbing to her feet. “Well, I doubt you want pine needles all over your car interior so, a boxed tree it is.” As Tom lifted the box and carried it over his shoulder, she’d already disappeared around a corner. 

 

Rather than hunting her down while carrying a box that threatened to knock over the shelving, Tom waited by the large display of Christmas trees, all of them brightly lit and heavily decorated with shatterproof ornaments. 

 

Within ten minutes, Hermione bound over to him, her arms filled with two clear containers of green, and silver ornaments - she’d asked him what he’d like before they left -, a box of lights, a tree skirt - which he didn’t think they  _ had  _ to have that -, and two stockings. “Okay, I’m done.” She smiled, leading him to the cashier. 

 

“Why wouldn’t you get a tree that is prelit?” He asked her. “It would be easier,” 

 

“It takes away from the experience, Tom. You need the full experience.” 

 

Which Mrs. Cole hadn’t let him have. “Alright.” He agreed, raising the heavy tree that had made his shoulder go numb for the salesgirl to scan. “Whatever you want.” He muttered, handing over his wallet after he fished it out of the pocket of his joggers.

* * *

 

By the time they were home, it was well past eleven o'clock, and they would probably be done with their tree  _ on _ the holiday itself, but that was okay. Hermione carried the bags of decorations into the elevator, sniggering to herself when Tom tried to maneuver his way around with the massive box. 

 

He was quiet as he cut open the box, muttering to himself that he didn’t need the instructions.  _ It can’t be that hard, _ he told her, and she was content to watch him for when he realized he was wrong. 

 

Hermione made hot chocolate, and it was as she was carrying the mugs back into the living room that she found the tree assembled. “Wow,” she murmured, passing him his cup. “Consider me impressed.” 

 

“Just because I’ve never put up a bloody tree before doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be able to, you know.” His fingers brushed hers as he took the steaming cup. “What would you like to do first?” Tom kissed the top of her head before setting the heavy mug on the coffee table. “Garland?” 

 

“The lights,” she murmured, sipping her hot chocolate, whimpering when it wasn’t cool enough quite yet. “Don’t turn them on though. We’ll save that for last.” 

 

“Dramatic effect?” He smirked, opening the small, square box of fairy lights. 

 

“Something like that, yeah.” Hermione did half of the work, squeezing between the wall, and the tree as she did the back side, handing the string of lights back to Tom. “You didn’t fluff the tree, I just realized.” 

 

“...fluff the tree?” 

 

Her heart broke a bit at the confused look on his face, and she wanted to meet this Mrs. Cole, if only to scream at things that couldn’t be changed. “Yeah, I’ll show you! It’s easy.” Hermione smiled, plugging the lights into the outlet, and stepping over the cord. “So you just,” she murmured, showing him what to do. “It makes it look fuller. See the difference?” 

 

Tom rested his chin on top of her head, nodding. “It’s pretty.” He handed her the ornaments by the handle that had been fashioned out of ribbon. 

 

She caught him smiling when he would glance over at her, unsure of where to put the decorative orbs. Not that she would tell him there was a wrong place for them, but he tentatively placed them, mirroring what she did. “Grab the star.” She told him, pointing a clear box on the sofa. “Put it at the top, Tom.” 

 

“Don’t you want to?” He handled the glass star carefully, perhaps a bit too carefully. “I was led to believe this was the best part.” 

 

She nodded. “It is, that’s why I want you to do it. I’m an only child, Tom. I put the star up every year until we stopped celebrating. It’s your turn.” 

 

Tom wasn’t so emotional that he let it show, what a simple gesture meant to him. But she knew after he held her face in his hands and kissed her as if she were made of glass. The low whispering of three words that she didn’t think she could tire of. 

 

Hermione knelt down to grab the switch on the lights. “Tom, would you turn off the overhead lights? The ones in the kitchen as well?” She waited for the lights to go out, and for him to come back to her side before she flicked the switch. 

 

She’d always liked the white lights the best, and the sight of the lights gleaming against the glassy ornaments made her breath catch. She turned into Tom, looping her arms around his waist and leaning her head to his chest. “Thank you.” It was a whisper. 

 

He stroked her hair, and when she looked up, he was staring at the tree in silence, but he was smiling. A full smile, and her heart swelled. 

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, even when you’re twenty six years old, you still can’t sleep through all of Christmas Eve. 

 

So at four in the morning, she crawled out from under his arm, and tiptoed out of the room. The hem of his shirt brushed against her thighs as she made her way to the kitchen to make more hot chocolate. Grabbing the smaller marshmallows from the cabinet - she’d put them on the list, as if Tom Riddle would think of mini marshmallows by himself - and sprinkled them over the top before making her way into the living room. 

 

She flicked the lights back on, and sat in front of them, blowing on her drink. It was the perfect time to think about how this year was ending, and of everything that had happened. She didn’t think it was over with Bellatrix, not even by a little bit. She was more than a little worried, but she supposed they would cross that bridge when they came to it. 

 

Quiet footsteps sounded behind her, and she pointed to the mug she set on the table for him. “I thought you wouldn’t be long.” 

 

“Can’t sleep without you anymore.” He rasped, his voice thick with sleep as he sat beside her, stretching his legs out. “Merry Christmas.” 

 

Hermione laid her head on his shoulder. “Merry Christmas to you too.” She murmured. 

 

His cup banged against the table as he set it down, and then he turned to pluck hers right from her hands. “Come here,” he told her, and she straddled him. “There are things I want to say, but I’m not sure how.” 

 

Hermione cocked her head to side. “You don’t have to tell my anything, Tom.” She reassured him, running her hands over his bare chest. 

 

“I should,” he kissed the base of her throat, dragging his lips up her neck, and pressing his lips to the spot behind her ear. “I’m a grown man, and I don’t think much of my childhood anymore beyond the fact that it was shitty. I never thought about fixing it.” 

 

“There’s nothing broken,” 

 

“Shh, Hermione.” He edged her shirt up, pulling it over her head. “I didn’t say you wanted to fix me, but you thought of something that I could still experience, and it’s better than anything I could have had in Wool’s Orphanage.” She choked, her eyes filling with tears. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, the tip of his nose skimming her collarbone as she tugged his joggers down. 

 

“Tom,” she whispered desperately. “Please, right now, just like this.” 

 

He lifted her by her hips, the dips in the skin there perfectly molded to his grip by now. “I’ll never look at a Christmas tree the same again,” he laughed under his breath,. He groaned as she slid down his cock eagerly, her walls clenching around him as her fingers tangled in his hair, and she kissed him as if he was air. 

 

Was it too much to say that he would never get enough of her? 

 

“I love you,” he told her in hushed tones, and he knew that it was partly because he needed to hear it again because - 

 

“I love you so much, Tom Riddle. You have no idea.” Her head tipped back, her lips pulling into an perfect ‘o’ as she came, slumping into him, and whispering, “please don’t stop.” 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this thing still on?

 

* * *

"I'm not ready." She murmured sleepily into his chest, sliding her palms up his chest, and curling up into the curve of his much warmer body. "I don't want to go back to class, and hide this, us." Hermione spoke into the juncture of his neck, nipping the skin there as his hand slid up her outer thigh. "Tom -"

"It's only a few months." He whispered into her ear, his cock already stiffening against the inside of his leg as he rolled her onto his back. "Alright," he conceded at the withering look she gave him, "six months, but that's nothing compared to all of the time I'll spend showing you off after." Tom's hand roamed over her soft skin, his fingers dipping into the small of her back.

She grinned, a whimper escaping her as he massaged her back. "Show me off, huh?" She laughed, hooking her leg around his hip as he rolled her onto her back.

"Of course." He pressed his lips along the swell of her breasts, his tongue darting out to flick against her nipples. "How could I not show you off with how stunning you are, or," he mumbled, pushing her leg down and sliding down her body, "absolutely fucking brilliant you are?" Tom smirked before spreading her legs, and settling between her thighs, his tongue flattening against her clit.

She trembled beneath him, fisting her hands in the already destroyed sheets - he had a nasty habit of tearing them off of the edges in the middle of the night -and she writhed as he took her legs, and rested them over his broad shoulders. "Oh." Hermione gasped, digging her elbows into the soft mattress, and propping herself up to look down at him. "God." She whined as he thrust two fingers inside of her, and curled them against her walls while he gently sucked on her clit.

Only enough to make her scream.

"You taste so good." He murmured, biting the inside of her thigh, and just barely brushing his fingers against her folds. "So wet for me." He cooed, his fingertip sliding against her clit gently. "What do you want, Hermione?"

"For you to fuck me." She replied, cheekily, grinning as she tugged him up to her lips by his disheveled hair. "Have I ever told you how much I like your hair like this?" She spoke against his lips, giggling when she felt his lips twitch up into a smile.

"Once or twice." He replied. "I want you on your hands and knees, Hermione." He whispered suddenly into her ear, yanking her forward by her hips.

Hermione moved herself, bending forward, and arching her back while the early morning light trickled through the dark curtains. As the head of his cock slid through her folds, teasing her, from her tight arsehole to her clit, she whimpered. She rocked back against him, trying to take him inside of her before he had even made a move, and he swatted her arse for her impatience.

"Did you moan, love?" He asked darkly, spanking her again. "Do you like this?"

Nodding her head, but needing to reply anyway, Hermione gasped, "yes!" And then his palm came down harder, and he was kneading her reddened arse. "Tom." She moaned, her voice undoubtedly bleeding through the walls, and waking their neighbors. "Please."

He slid into her hard, bottoming out in a single thrust, and thread his fingers through her tangled curls. "Fuck." He groaned in her ear, yanking her up, and closing his hand around her throat. "You take me so fucking well." Ever the show off, it was only a short series of touches that had her coming, his fingers swiping across her clit roughly, and sending her over the edge while she shuddered in his tight grip. "Come for me, Hermione. Come on my cock."

Screaming out, it wasn't as if she needed to be told twice.

* * *

At his request, Hermione let him pick out her clothes for the day, and it was no mistake that he hadn't laid out knickers as well. With the bedroom to herself while Tom made a pot of coffee in the kitchen, she slid the pencil skirt up her thighs, zipping it with slight difficulty before turning to see how her arse looked in the mirror sitting on top of the vanity. Grabbing the dark green blouse - a completely Tom thing to pick out - Hermione, slid her arms through the sleeves.

Slipping panty hose on, she stepped into her heels before making her way into the kitchen. "This is a bit drastic, Tom." She scolded, bending over in the fridge to grab a grape from the container. "I never dress like this."

"You should." He remarked, pulling her tight against him. "You look breathtaking."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and reached around him to pour a cup of coffee. "I think you just want me to flash you in class, and this skirt makes it a bit easier for me to do so." She laughed.

Tom gripped her hips, kissing down her neck after he'd brushed her hair to the side. "Speaking of flashing me," he trailed off, biting her neck, his hand squeezing her throat. "You sound so pretty when you can't breathe, did you know that?"

"I know that you saying that shouldn't make me as horny as it does." She mumbled under her breath, grinding her arse against him. "You were about to tell me something?"

He nodded, his tongue sliding along her neck. Picking her up was easy, and he did it so quickly she had no time to protest as he set her on the counter. "Would you wear this for me?" Tom asked her, showing her a small bullet, and she blinked as she realized it was a toy.

Heat pulled in her lower belly. "Is that a vibrator?" She swallowed, her breath coming shorter and shorter. "That sounds like a horrible idea; do you have any idea how easy it would be to get caught? Or how bad it would be for you if Dumbledore had to investigate a claim that you're  _edging_ me in class?" Hermione couldn't bring herself to sound angry, not when it was such a vivid image - rubbing her thighs together in his class, the delicious vibrations against her swollen clit as she bit her lip so hard it bled so she wouldn't cry out for him to fuck her right then.

"I think that you're doing most of the convincing for me right now, Hermione." He whispered into her ear. "If you're a good girl for me, and you don't come, I'll reward you in my office."

"I know that's a bad idea." She swallowed uneasily. "You and I both know Bellatrix will be very interested in our movements, and -"

"Let me take care of that. Would you like to?"

"I - yeah." Hermione nodded, and despite the fact that it was a bad idea, she couldn't bring herself to regret it not ten minutes later when he turned the setting to the highest setting and it startled her into her third orgasm of the morning.

"You weren't supposed to come." He growled in her ear as he fucked her in a back stairwell of his building. They hadn't even made it out of the building and they were shagging. She wasn't sure how she would make it through the entire day.

* * *

Ron asked her immediately with a hushed whisper in her ear - one that had Professor Riddle in a shitty mood - if they were still together.

Brushing him off with a glare, Hermione muttered, "Obviously. What kind of question is that?"

"It's still a shock is all." He replied, slipping into his seat behind her. "I was wondering if you'd come to your senses yet."

Snorting, Hermione flipped open her notebook, clicked her pen into place, and crossed her legs. And then her body shuddered involuntarily at the low vibration between her legs. Flicking her eyes toward her professor, who was standing behind the podium, his hands conveniently tucked away in his pockets, she scowled.

The lecture was nothing she hadn't already learned. Despite living with him, she still squared away time to study ahead. Typically it was when he planning a lesson, and he sat in his study. Tom understood the need for personal time, and was mature enough to note that while she loved him - well, she didn't need to spend  _all_  of her time with him. Or else she might hate him completely.

A squeak tumbled from her lips, and Ginny turned in her seat, giving her a curious look. "Hermione?"

"Cold chill," she muttered under her breath, but saw the corner of Tom's lip quirk up. "How was the rest of your holiday? How was Molly?" Hermione drummed her pen against the desk, refusing the urge to twitch when the vibration between her legs returned.

"Mum was disappointed you didn't come over. She wanted to meet Tom." Ginny laughed under her breath, whispering his name so none of their classmates would hear. "Although, I think she only wanted to ask why her son is so awful in his class. Even if he doesn't live at home, she'll always be nosy." She said with an eye roll.

Hermione winced as the speed of the vibrator was raised. "My mother called me on Christmas."

Ginny's eyes widened. "How did that go?"

"About as well as you'd expect." Hermione muttered under her breath, scribbling a note in the margin of her notebook. "How convenient is it that she heard a rumor I was sleeping with my professor?" She murmured, digging the tip of her ballpoint pen into the pristine white pages. "Because that was a conversation I wanted to have."

Her friend nodded, cutting the conversation short as Cormac leaned over from his seat on Hermione's right - he'd been the source of her irritation for much of the term - when Ron wasn't driving her up the wall. "Hey -" He whispered, casting a look toward Riddle, whose back was to the room. "Do you have any plans tonight?"

Hermione's foot stopped idly tapping below the desk. "I don't have any plans, no." She replied, aware of their professor turning around, pointing to the board with a laser pointer. Tom's eyes landed on her, and she realized how noticeable it had to be. Keeping a secret like this was already hard enough, but he was a possessive bastard who would be glaring at McLaggen without a doubt. "I would have done some studying, but it's nothing urgent." Hermione said.

Sure, Tom wouldn't understand right this second, and he'd probably fuck her into the nearest flat surface once he got a chance, but it was logical she reminded herself. No one would believe she was dating Professor Riddle if she was seen with someone else. "I don't like how we ended things a few months ago, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to give me another chance? There's a new movie playing tonight -"

"Sure," Hermione smiled, and turned her attention back to the front of the class. "Would you mind an early dinner as well?"

Cormac's eyes widened. It should have made her feel worse than it did that he was thrilled he'd gotten farther than he believed he would. But it was a good cover, one that she wasn't going to just throw away. "That would be perfect." He replied, his white teeth flashing as he grinned.

At her side, Ginny said nothing, and her legs trembled below the desk as Tom pressed a button in his pocket. At the highest setting Hermione had to readjust herself so no one would hear it vibrating against her chair, and when it became clear that he wasn't going to turn it off, she stopped holding on to the shred of self control she had.

* * *

It was near the end of her day, and Tom still hadn't spoken to her. She supposed there wasn't a lot of time for him to find her, or an excuse convenient enough to drag her into his office. Not when Albus Dumbledore was still eyeing her in the corridors, watching her carefully. And if he was watching her, she could only imagine what strain Tom had to be under.

Still, it felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop. She didn't want to go on a fake date if Tom didn't know why she was doing it in the first place. He would understand the rationality of it, but he wouldn't like it. In fact, he would hate it, and she wasn't completely convinced he wouldn't follow her on her fake date.

Shouldering her bag, Hermione didn't so much as look up when the door to her right flew open as she walked by. A hand shot out, grabbed her by the strap of her backpack, and hauled her inside. Her shriek was muffled as a pale hand clamped down over her mouth. Her back met the wall, and she peered up at her capturer.

Tom was breathing heavy, and her bag slipped down her arm, and made a light  _thud_  at her feet. Her chest rising and falling, she couldn't break her eyes away from him. Swatting his hand away, she growled. "Are you fucking stupid?"

" _What?"_ He hissed, flipping the lock. "Would you care to explain why you agreed to a date with Cormac fucking McLaggen right in front of me?" There was a flicker of pain, of betrayal in his eyes as he looked down at her.

She laughed, something Tom didn't appreciate. "I only thought of the idea when he asked me, Tom. I've been searching for you all day so I could explain." Laying her hand on his forearm, she rolled her eyes. "Dumbledore will be watching us, and the best way for us to push suspicion away from us is to be seen with other people."

His eyes darkened. "If he puts his hands on you, I'll fucking kill him." Tom grumbled, his pupils wide, and not tearing his gaze away from her. "Do you understand that, Hermione? If he touches you anywhere -"

She smirked, cupping his face and pulling him down to kiss her. "Shut up, you're the only one who gets to touch me, Tom." Hermione was pressed to the wall, with him picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. "This isn't the place," she murmured as he slid his hand up her thigh and under her skirt, ripping the crotch of her tights open so he could press his fingers against. her sensitive clit. "Tom!" She gasped.

"Who should I be seen with?" He asked her simply, his eyes lit up with amusement at seeing her squirm. "You're going out with that ponce, but as for me -"

Hermione glared, scratching his neck by mistake as she writhed against him. "I think it's enough for me to be seen with McLaggen." She spoke between gritted teeth.

"Jealous?" He muttered into her neck, two fingers sliding and curling into her tight cunt. "Can you imagine what went through my head watching you in my class?" He'd torn her shirt up, pulled her bra down by the middle. "It wasn't a rhetorical question, Hermione."

She shuddered as his lips closed over her nipple. "With your temper? Could be anything." Her breathing ragged, and her eyes fluttering shut, Hermione lost the thought she'd previously had.

"There's a professor here that will do for me." He murmured, slamming her up against the wall - having already unzipped his zipper - and sliding into her, already filled cunt, with one thrust. At the narrowing of her eyes, he continued, a smirk curving his lips. "I think we'll conveniently visit the same restaurant that you do." Tom growled in her ear, pinching her nipple. "What movie did that fool have in mind?"

Hermione gasped, "Horror. I'm sure he wants an excuse to touch me. Maybe he hopes I'll climb into his lap and ride his cock in the middle of the theatre." She realized she'd pushed him too far when the vibrator turned on once more as he fucked her.

"Do you come in the middle of my lecture like the little slut you are?" He snapped right next to her ear, hot breath fanning against her neck. "Tell me, Miss Granger." His words were emphasized by another hard thrust.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she kept thinking someone would kick the door open. It was so obvious what was happening - she shrieked as he held her higher, index finger sliding against her arse hole. "I did." Hermione sobbed, certain she was on the cusp of another orgasm, one that could possibly be the strongest yet. "I couldn't help it."

Tom stilled against her. "And I was so looking forward to rewarding you." He murmured, smoothing her hair.

Well,  _fuck_ , when he put it that way, she found that she wanted to know what he would have done. "Tom," Hermione whimpered, still clinging to him, and rolling her hips against his. "Please."

He shook his head. "That just won't do. What do you think a fair punishment is for you, Hermione? How many times have you orgasmed already?"

The bastard knew it was more than once, and as if she could help it. Overly sensitive and - "Four times." She whispered, peeking up at him through her lashes. "You're the one who set it at the highest setting."

He leaned forward, whispering in her ear, his cock still buried in her tight cunt. "Such a greedy fucking slut, aren't you?"

"For God's sake, Riddle, just fuck me!" She hissed.

Pulling out of her, and setting her on the ground, he replied, "No. What is a good punishment for you? Or would you rather I choose?"

Cheeky enough to test him, Hermione raised her chin, glaring at him in defiance. "If you really want to punish me, you can choose."

He smirked. "Well, part of it will have to wait until we're home, given how you can't keep quiet. On your knees, Miss Granger."

Hermione sunk to her knees, biting her lip as he gathered her curls in his fist. "What's the other part?" She asked.

"I'd like to spank you, while you count them, while you thank me for each one." He murmured, tugging her by the hair. "Right now, I'm going to fuck that smart mouth."

"You'd better make it quick then." Hermione remarked. "It may be your planning hour, but eventually we'll be missed." Sliding closer to him, she took him into her mouth, her tongue sliding against the underside of his cock as the head hit the back of her throat. Whimpering, she didn't break eye contact as he stared down at her.

"Don't touch yourself." He said as soon as her fingers wandered towards her dripping cunt. "You're so pretty when you cry." Tom growled as she continued to take him deeper into her mouth, and her eyes watered. "Going to swallow for me?"

She did, of course.

* * *

Getting out of the cupboard was a bitch.

With his new planning period being the last hour of the day, it made for an easier escape given that most of the students were already gone. However, it was humiliating to call Ginny, who came to double check the corridor before giving them the okay to get out.

Hermione didn't say a goddamn word to Ginny as they parted ways, and Hermione hurried home to their flat. After confirming their date, and promising to meet Cormac for dinner rather than him picking her up, she waited for Tom. Opening the fridge, and eating half a sandwich, she only slightly worried that he was late because Dumbledore discovered their tryst in the cupboard.

It was traffic that made him late, and he chuckled at her worries. Then he said the one thing that was sure to infuriate her. "I've found myself with plans for tonight as well." He murmured, backing her toward their bedroom.

"Oh?" She arched an eyebrow. "What's her name?"

"Aurora." He smirked, tugging the windsor knot of his tie. "It's not a secret that she's been interested." Tom shrugged, his face a mask of utter innocence.

"Professor Sinistra," she deadpanned. "You're a real bastard."

He laughed, tossing his tie into the floor. "She's nothing to me, and you know it. I don't want you bent over the bed; come with me."

Hermione swallowed as his fingers circled her wrist, leading her down the corridor and into his study. "Then why did you take me into the bedroom at all?" She rolled her eyes.

"I changed my mind. Bend over my desk."

Her eyes widened, and she moved toward the desk, placing the neatly stacked papers into a drawer. "How many times will you spank me?" She asked as he took the hem of her shirt in his hands, pulling it over her head. Next he unzipped her skirt, letting it pool around her feet. "Leave the heels, I assume?" She asked once she'd stripped her legs of her ruined tights too.

"Good girl." He flattened his palm against her back. "I haven't decided yet." His hand came down against her skin hard, the slap echoing through the room.

"One," she gasped, gripping the edge of the desk, mistakenly knocking a cup of pens from it. "Thank you." She moaned.

Without turning to look at him, Hermione knew there was a smirk on his face as he spanked her. There was a delightful ache between her legs, and she whimpered as his fingers rubbed her slit. Tom bent over her, kissing down her spine. "Oh no," he chuckled, his voice muffled against her flesh. "You know what coming without permission earns you, don't you?" He murmured, his open palm slapping her arse.

"If this is the punishment, I think I may act out more." She gasped.

In the end, he still didn't let her come, and she found herself sitting in his lap while he relaxed into his chair. Laying her head in the crook of his neck, she peeked up at him. "You're thinking about something." Hermione's fingers danced around the edge of his collar. "You're distracted."

He barked a laugh. "Nothing gets past you, does it?"

She shrugged. "What's on your mind?"

"You."

"That was absurdly sappy."

Casting a dark look toward the ceiling, his head rolled to the side as he stared at her. "Rationally, I understand why you decided this farce was a good idea."

Hermione nodded, picking at her fingernails. "It makes sense, doesn't it?" She asked, a smug smirk on her face. "Of course you won't like it, but I think it will make everything easier."

Tom said nothing, adjusting his legs and gripping her hips as he did so. "You're right. I loathe the idea of anyone believing they have a hold on you."

"Of course Sinistra will think she'll be getting a piece of you at the end of the night." Hermione continued as if he'd never spoken. "Tell me, is she as clingy as Bellatrix was?"

He shook his head, wrapping one of her curls around his finger. "I believe I've learned a lesson when it comes to - what did you call her? Oh, yes - stage five clingers." Tom told her, kissing the top of her hair.

She replied still sour, "Marvelous."

* * *

Not that she expected the date with Cormac to go well, certainly not after the first one, but Hermione hadn't expected it to be quite so bad. Though she imagined it was partly Tom's doing. Her boyfriend had the good sense to sit across the restaurant, positioned where the two of them could see the other, but where their respective dates wouldn't notice.

"Hermione?" Cormac's voice jarred her.

She felt awful. "I'm sorry." Hermione said, shaking her head as she clasped her hands in her lap. "My mind is just..everywhere, I suppose." Her voice sounded high to her own ear, one of the things she noticed when she was lying. Obviously her mind had been halfway across the establishment where Tom was - fake - laughing at something Sinistra had said.

Her date only laughed, not phased by her behavior in the least. "You must be focused on the next exams already."

She blinked. "We just finished exams."

"Right," Cormac motioned towards her, as if that made everything make sense. "You're always ahead of us, always have been, so I just assumed you would be in a tizzy for the end of the semester."

Hermione wanted to leave then, but she forced a smile. "Thank you for your unoriginal assumptions, but I do have a life outside of my academics, thank you." She set her glass of wine on the table, now wishing she'd never mentioned dinner  _and_  a film.

Cormac cleared his throat. "So have you been to many rugby matches this term?"

Oh, yes, this was just  _fantastic._

* * *

Even though she didn't want to admit it, she was scared out of her wits.

Tom had timed it well enough that she caught a glimpse of him as he stood at the counter. A smirk playing on the edge of his lips, Hermione turned her nose up, sneaking her hand into Cormac's and pulled him into the theatre.

Again, she thought bitterly, a horror movie was completely her date's idea. As she sat in the chair, knowing Tom was not far behind her, Cormac slid his arm around her shoulders. His fingers brushed the back of her neck and she imagined Tom's clenched jaw. She thought he was likely to be considering breaking every bone in his hand, one by one.

On the wide screen before them, she shrieked when the killer appeared without warning. "Oh, fuck!" Hermione screamed, clapping both hands over her mouth as a chuckle was heard from the back of the room. "This is the worst!" She told Cormac in a hushed voice. "What were you thinking?"

Hermione's phone vibrated from where it was tucked between her legs. Half expecting to see Tom's name flashing across the screen, she peeked at it. Though really she was meant to turn it off before starting the movie, the thought of teasing Tom was too enticing.

It was a number that seemed familiar, but wasn't saved. "I think I need to take this." She murmured, standing and creeping down the row of seats. Hermione muttered an apology to Cormac before making her way into the lobby.

She hurried into the bathroom to avoid the crowd in the lobby. Having already missed the call, Hermione slumped against the wall while she checked her voicemail.

" _Hello, I'm calling to discuss a job application for a Hermione Granger with Borgin and Burkes. If you are still interested, I will be here until ten o'clock tonight."_

Her phone nearly slipped from her grip as her eyes widened. Of course the number seemed familiar, she'd already seen it while filling out applications. Quickly returning the call, she held her breath as she waited for an answer on the other end.

"Borgin and Burke's, how may I help you?"

Her voice came out much higher than she intended. "Hello, this is Hermione Granger. I was returning your call regarding -"

"Oh yes!" He exclaimed. "Well, I am the Borgin in Borgin and Burke's. Would you be available for an interview tomorrow at," she could hear him rifling through papers, probably a day planner, "say, one o'clock in the afternoon? It's really only a formality given your resume."

She felt as if her heart would burst from her chest or her lip would bleed from her gnawing through it. "Well, I wanted to be sure before you went through the trouble of interviewing me that you could work with my personal schedule?"

"Definitely, I'm needing someone for later shifts as there aren't many competent individuals who will run the shop while I'm gone. I'm sure you'd feel comfortable with inventory, yes?"

Hermione nodded along. "Yes, I would."

"Perfect! One o'clock then, Miss Granger."

The line disconnected and she sighed in relief.  _Finally._ Not that Tom would be upset be her not having a job. In fact, what he wanted was to support her rather than have her spread herself too thin once more. An admirable trait, she thought, but she wanted to be able to support herself without her boyfriend's help.

"What are you doing?"

Stifling a scream she looked over to see Tom, hands neatly tucked into his pockets. "I-" Hermione broke off, throwing her arms around his neck. "First of all, did you call Borgin and Burke's to get me hired."

His eyebrows drew together. "No, you asked me not to."

"Right." She paused. "I think he just hired me."

A wide grin spread across his face. "I knew you'd find something." He didn't mention how she could have not kept at it. Tom pressed her to the wall, cupping her face. "That movie isn't even scary." He mumbled against her lips, backing her towards the open stall.

Hermione scoffed. "It was bloody terrifying."

"Hardly, I've seen worse."

"You mean you've done worse when you worked with Abraxas?" Hermione laughed, her back meeting the wall, as he slid his hands around the backs of her thighs, lifting her.

"You said it." Tom growled, pinching her nipple through her thin shirt. "You know he's probably wondering where you are?" He drawled, dipping his head to slide his lips along the column of her neck. "With that lost fucking puppy look on his face, but you're here with me." He bit at the base of her neck, hard enough to leave a mark where she'd have to wear her hair down. "Right where you fucking belong."

She smirked, tugging his hair and whimpering as he set her down long enough to pull her jeans down her legs. Only he let them pull around her ankles while she unzipped his trousers. "What are you-" She began.

Tom scooped her back up, putting her legs over his shoulders. Her eyes widened as she gripped his shoulders tightly. "I've got you, calm down." He growled, and slid into her in one thrust.

"Oh, fuck." She whispered. "Won't your date be wondering where  _you_  are?"

"I couldn't give less of a fuck." He muttered, bottoming out inside of her. "If I have to carry through with the rest of this date, I want my come dripping out of your tight cunt."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never intended to not update for three months, but life got away from me, you know. I plan on updating more regularly, but you might see some slowness in January as I try to finish my dramione WIP. If you don't know, this fic was nominated for Best Erotic Tomione in the Beyond the Book Fanfiction Nook awards, and it also won. So if you nominated this, or voted for it, or just came back to read when I updated, I fucking love you. Thank you weestarmeggie for the alpha and beta read. 
> 
> Happy Holidays wherever you are!
> 
> Mrs. Ren


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to weestarmeggie for looking this over alpha notes. I edited this on my own so any mistakes belong solely to me.

 

* * *

Hermione sighed as she slid the knife back into the block on the kitchen counter. Tom had already left for work, having made breakfast for both of them before leaving, but it was so unlike him not to pick up after himself.

She wasn't sure she would ever grow used to, or tired of for that matter, Tom cooking breakfast in the mornings. By all accounts he was not a domestic sort of man, but he was quick witted to point out that she was the  _worst_  in the kitchen. It was fine, he insisted, and on the fridge there was a list reminding her off all the times she'd nearly caught something on fire.

At some point she just stopped trying.

It was her day off both from classes and her new part time job at the book shop. With her course load mostly caught up, she supposed she could either binge watch television, or even study ahead, but Hermione thought of both possibilities for barely a second before pushing the thoughts away. What she really ought to do was figure out what she planned to buy Tom for Valentine's Day. It was only a week away and while he wasn't the sentimental sort, she had every intention of giving him the experiences he hadn't had a child in the orphanage.

"Great," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm talking to myself now. Bloody brilliant." Hermione quickly cleaned the kitchen, washing the knife by hand. She mistakenly sliced the tip of her index finger. With a sound that was caught between a whimper, and a hiss, she let the knife fall into the sink.

Hurrying into the bathroom, she pulled the small first aid kit from beneath the basin. Tom had teased her for buying it, all while saying they would never need it. It was the only reason she'd pulled her mobile from her pocket and taken a picture of her then bandaged finger, sending it to him with a text following it.

_I told you the first aid kit would come in handy. Not to mention it's really your fault I cut my finger since you left a knife out after cooking breakfast._

Tom's reply came after his classes had switched, and after he'd doled out a surprise quiz. She imagined he'd probably just sat down at his desk.

_I didn't use a knife this morning. I couldn't have left it out._

A chill crept down her spine. It didn't mean anything, Hermione assured herself. It wasn't such a cause for alarm that she would think anything of it.

_Odd. I must have left it out, and forgotten._

That was a far more plausible answer. Still, Hermione eyed their flat warily as she made her way into their bedroom. Quickly changing into a pair of jeans and a loose fitting jumper, Hermione left the flat while sending Tom a text that she would be home some time after him.

* * *

She missed Ginny, and her advice when it came to relationships and the like was invaluable to her. It was why they had agreed to meet three days after the beginning of the week. The redhead met her at the Leaky Cauldron, having already grabbed a booth for them, and ordered two coffees.

"What's wrong?" she immediately asked as Hermione took her seat.

Hermione's hands were still shaking, and it was only a hunch, but her day was decidedly not going well. "I think someone followed me from home." she whispered, her hands closing around the warm cup. "At first I thought I was just being paranoid because of Bellatrix, but I'm almost positive now."

The first thing out of Ginny's mouth was the most predictable. "Have you told Tom yet?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't wrap my head around it still. He's sure to overreact if I let him know."

Ginny's mouth fell open. "You're kidding, aren't you? Hermione, that woman tore your entire home apart. She's a raging psychopath. If there's any reason to believe you have a stalker, you should absolutely tell him. As protective as the man may be, at least he'll do something about it." she finished with a huff.

The  _something_  that Tom would do was what worried her. She'd rather not learn just how far his temper went, not if she could handle it herself.

"You're right. I'll tell him when he gets home tonight." Hermione lied smoothly as she dug through her book bag. "Suspected stalking aside, that's not why I asked you to meet me. I need advice. Have you bought anything for Harry yet?"

Ginny's brows drew together. "Oh, for Valentine's Day? Of course," she laughed, "I bought it last month. Oh no, Hermione, please don't tell me you haven't bought  _anything_!"

Hermione kept her mouth clamped shut.

Ginny laughed, shaking her head. "Alright, let's get you sorted out, shall we?" She sipped her drink as she leaned back in the booth. "It's too late for you to order anything online now. It wouldn't get here in time."

"I mean, it's not a problem if it's a few days late — why are you glaring at me?"

Ginny's stare did not let up as she leaned over the table. "You'll feel like a twat if Tom gives you a gift and you haven't gotten him anything."

Well, she supposed that was true. "I don't know what to get him." Hermione dragged her hands down her face. "I've run through different things, but he wouldn't like any of them. He's a fucking difficult man to shop for."

Her friend shrugged. "You're the one who loves him. Fine, if you don't know what he would like, which you should work on, can you ask one of his friends?" Ginny looked around before leaning forward again. "Does Professor Riddle even have friends?"

Hermione tapped her fingers against her chin. "I met an acquaintance of his on that night I was stranded in the middle of the night." she muttered. Hermione wasn't all too sure if Abraxas Malfoy counted as a friend as he seemed to be right terrified of Tom Riddle, but it was probably the only option she had.

"Why do you say it like that?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Ginny sighed. "When you say acquaintance, you get this sour look on your face." she explained, and there was little chance she would let Hermione escape without a detailed answer.

Hermione laughed a bit. "Well, he's the owner of a pub, and Tom used to collect debts for him. I'm not so convinced the man will be able to tell me what to buy him for Valentine's Day."

Ginny's mouth had fallen open. "Collected money?"

Hermione nodded, a smug smile twisted her lips as she lifted her styrofoam cup. Her name had been misspelled on the side. "Abraxas was going to kick me out of the Shrieking Shack before I told him Tom Riddle sent me there. He backed off rather quickly and stowed me away in his office."

Wide eyed, she could hardly speak. "Did Tom say how he...how exactly he collected money during this time?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, but I'd imagine it involved several broken bones. The Shrieking Shack should be open by now. Would you go with me? I'd really rather not go alone, given," Hermione lowered her voice, "my dilemma."

"Wait, I've heard of that pub. Charlie and Bill used to go there whenever they still lived her. It's notorious for brawls. It's where Bill got that long scar running down the side of his face."

She could believe it. "Would you rather not —"

"Fuck no, I'm curious now." Ginny grinned ear to ear and ripped Hermione from the booth.

* * *

To put it simply, Abraxas did not look pleased when she stepped into his pub again. In fact, he looked the complete opposite. His nostrils flared and he pulled her to the side by taking hold of both her and Ginny's arms.

"Girl, have you gotten yourself into more trouble?" he rasped. Abraxas dragged them down the corridor and into his office. "Because I can't imagine there's any other reason why you would be in my pub."

"You're kind of a prick." Ginny said smoothly and Hermione looked at her in horror. "If you're such an arsehole, why did Tom Riddle have to collect your money for you."

"Ginny!" she hissed, slapping the back of her head.

He chuckled, leaning against his desk. "He took a bit more joy in it than I did. What can I help you with? If it has anything to do with you dumping Riddle, you can leave now."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "This is fucking ridiculous," she told Ginny. "It's come to my attention that you're the only person I've met who knows Tom and doesn't want to maim me."

He nodded. "I heard Bellatrix destroyed your flat."

Ginny chimed in. "The crazy bitch is stalking her now too."

His eyes widened a bit at that. Abraxas fixed her with a look. "Have you told him yet? I can't imagine he'll be pleased."

It wasn't something that she'd have wanted the man to know, not when he could easily broach the topic with Tom himself. "I'm discussing it with him tonight. I wanted to ask you, if you aren't terribly busy, what Tom likes?"

Abraxas stared at her for a minute. "What?'

"Well —" Hermione began.

Ginny cut her off, her eyes bright with mischief. "You see, Hermione is a bit of a shite girlfriend. Valentine's Day is next week, and well," she trailed off.

His head fell back as he shook with laughter. "Where did he find you? You're nearly as innocent as they come."

Considering that the man feared Tom, Hermione couldn't help herself. She shrugged. "In his class."

* * *

One awkward trip later, Hermione had stopped by a shop and placed an order for a custom decanter. Of course when Tom opened it, she would have to explain how she had known about a previous decanter that had been destroyed. She couldn't imagine he would please that she'd visited the pub again, but at least she hadn't gone alone, or at night for that matter.

Hermione was in the kitchen when he came home on the holiday itself, and she'd been anxiously waiting for ten minutes. "You're late." she called. She hoisted the wrapped package into her arms and made her way into the living room.

"I had to pick something up." he said.

"Was it another flower shop?" Hermione grinned. She leaned against the door trim, watching as he shrugged out of his coat. "How was your day?"

He glanced up at her, running his fingers through his hair. "Did you...did you cook?"

Hermione snorted. "Get that worried look off your face. No, I ordered in. I wasn't actually sure if you would want to celebrate the holiday at all, but in case you did, it wasn't fair for you to cook. You make dinner every night."

Tom arched an eyebrow as he took two long steps toward her. Carefully, he took the box from her arms and pressed her to the wall. "My day was obnoxiously long, and I was counting the minutes because I knew you were at home waiting on me." he murmured, lifting her chin with one finger.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck. "How utterly domestic."

His eyes narrowed before he had her wrists in his hands and he pinned them to the wall above her head. Tom slid his knee between her legs, his lips coming down on hers roughly. Swallowing her whimper, he flicked the top button of her blouse, and then worked his way down until her cleavage was exposed.

All too soon, he pulled away from her and dragged his lips down her throat, nipping where her shoulder began. "Love you," he murmured.

She was pretty sure he said it so often because he worried she might forget it. Hermione tried to move closer to him, wiggling in his grasp. "I — fuck!" she moaned as his hand slid between her legs, and his fingers rubbed her clit through her jeans.

Tom released her, rising and placing a kiss to her temple. "I admit that I've never celebrated this holiday before. Given that you are grossly sappy when it comes to romance," he ignored her shout of indignation as he rummaged through his pockets, "I wanted to make you happy."

Hermione took the box from his hands, eying it curiously. It was a large square, no doubt a necklace, but she suddenly felt that she may have gone too cheap for his gift. "Wait!" she hurried as he moved to take his gift for himself. "Don't open that."

"Why not? Isn't this mine?"

"Well," she chewed the inside of her cheek, "it is, but it's not good enough. I don't want you to open it now. I'd like to buy you something different."

He shook his head and laughed. "You're being ridiculous. Come sit on the sofa, would you?" Tom grabbed her hand, brushing a thumb across her knuckles. She'd long since grown used to this new side of him that reserved only for her. "I'm surprised you bought me anything. Not that — you didn't have to is what I'm trying to say."

"Of course I didn't." Hermione sat right next to him. "I wanted to make you happy too, you know."

She was certain he'd muttered something about making him happy every day, but he wasn't likely to let her hear that. Hermione opened her gift first, lifting the lid of the black velvet box, and her lips parted. "Tom," she whispered, just tracing the thin chain. "This is stunning. God, thank you so much. I love it."

Hermione laid the box on the table, crawling into his lap and feverishly kissing him. His hands slid up her sides, brushing the curve of her breasts as she rolled her hips against him. "If you think," he murmured, his voice ragged, "that you'll be able to distract me from that gift on the table, you are sorely mistaken."

Tom kept her in his lap as he peeled back the wrapping paper. As his eyes fell on the familiar design, and the whiskey glasses that had come with it, he stared at her. "Hermione?"

She offered a weak smile. "I was stuck on what to get you, and you don't have many friends that I'm aware of, so Ginny and I paid a visit to Abraxas. He told me the story of how you used to have this, but it was broken some years ago."

He nodded. His fingers traced the etched glass. "I imagine he got a good laugh out of your visit." Tom murmured, stretching forward to set it back on the table.

"He did." Hermione twisted in his lap to face him once more. "I love you," she whispered. She unbuttoned his shirt, and pushed it over his shoulders. "Thank you for my necklace and the earrings."

His arms came around her waist. "You're welcome," Tom hesitated as he nuzzled the crook of her shoulder. "Thank you, Hermione."

For someone who had never been on a full fledged relationship, Tom was a miraculously wonderful boyfriend. After closing the pretty diamond necklace around her neck, his fingers lingering at the nape of her neck where her hair stood on end.

He'd told her to dress comfortably, and leveled her with a look when she arched an eyebrow. "I mean pajamas, not lingerie. Did you buy lingerie?"

At the insistence of Ginny, she actually had, but hermione shook her head. "What are we doing?"

"Go change, and you'll find out." he nudged her forward, and followed after her. Tom slept in thin, linen bottoms, and without a shirt. That was the sight waiting for her when she bounced into the living room.

"Movies?"

He smirked. "You're not the only one who thought to ask friends. Weasley exchanged information for the chance to retake an exam."

Her mouth fell open. " _Ron?_ You asked Ron for help?" Hermione laughed uncontrollably. "Well, isn't that a twist. What did he tell you?"

Tom knelt in front of the entertainment center, pulling out a stack of movies that he set in front of her. "He told me that you rarely make up your mind and to play the first movie your eye went to."

Sound advice really. The corners of her mouth curved upward. "Okay."

* * *

They didn't watch the movie.

It was within the first ten minutes that Tom's hand crept up her thigh. "I loathe this movie." he murmured as his hand rose to the string on her pajamas. He pulled on the string, his hand slowly dipping into her knickers.

She laughed, her head falling back against the cushions. "I thought you might. I didn't think you'd make in twenty minutes."

He smirked. "Well, it's terrible. I can already see that she ends up with the one that isn't right."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "How would you know that he's the wrong one for her? You haven't seen any of the character building." Her retort was muffled as he leaned down to kiss her, his arm sliding around her shoulders.

"Spread your legs."

She flushed, lifting her legs and parting them. "You could just take my bottoms off." Hermione pointed out as she pulled his face back to hers. Two fingers swiped against her clit. "Fuck."

Tom kissed her roughly, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. He bit her bottom lip, watching her as her eyes fluttered shut. One finger slid into her cunt, and then two. Rubbing her clit with his thumb, he kissed down her jaw, down her throat. "So wet for me already," he murmured.

Hermione gasped, fumbling with his bottoms as she pulled his cock from his trousers. Wrapping her fingers around it, she slowly stroked him. She writhed under his touch, moaning his name. "You're teasing me."

He wasn't really, but his touch slowed at the accusal. Tom stood from the couch, holding his hand up when she moved to stand with him. Hooking his fingers into her bottoms, he tugged them down her legs and tossed them into the floor. "Keep your legs spread." he ordered, kneeling before her.

Hermione pulled her top up, exposing her breasts. She pinched her nipple as his his fingers pumped into her once more and he lowered his mouth to her cunt.

He didn't break eye contact while lapping at her clit, and his palm was heavy on her belly as he kept her from arching off of the couch.

She gripped his hair, trying to move closer to him. "Tom," she moaned. "Oh, fuck."

He was deliciously rough with her, his fingers curling inside of her tight cunt. His teeth barely grazed her clit, and it was just enough pressure to send her over the edge.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she babbled, trying to rip him away from her. "Tom, I'm too sensitive!" She shrieked as he grabbed both of her wrists, pinning them at her sides. "I'm going to —" Hermione slumped bonelessly against the couch, her breathing heavy and her hair sticking to her forehead. "Let me at least return the favor before you fuck me."

He shook his head, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her into the floor. "On your hands and knees."

Hermione was shaking as he did as he said, arching her back and pressing against him as the tip of his cock pressed to her cunt.

He slammed into her, grabbing her hair and tugging harshly.

Yes, the movie was long forgotten.

* * *

The book shop was quiet as she sat behind the counter, pen in hand as she marked through an assignment. It had been an hour since her boss had gone home for the evening, leaving her to close up the shop. Time seemed to slowly creep by while Hermione glanced at the time every five minutes.

Harry and Ron had stopped by around five, bringing lunch and coffee with them before they took off. But not before they told her that her  _boyfriend_ , they'd said it with irritation, but no real malice, had failed them on their most recent quiz. Well, maybe if they applied themselves in any capacity and prepared rather than winging it at the last possible second they wouldn't have these problems.

As eight o'clock finally rolled around, Hermione flipped the lock into place as she turned off the lights. Having already shelved returns and new inventory, all that was left was to sweep, which only took five minutes for the shop. Hermione counted the till, preparing the deposit for Burke in the morning, and left the green bag on his desk.

There was a text from Tom as she punched her time card, shouldering her backpack and setting the alarm. After locking the door behind her, Hermione opened the message.

 _I may be late._ Tom didn't say why, but there was a settling of unease in her stomach.

 _Alright. I'm just leaving the shop. If I get home before you, I'll put the kettle on._ Hermione slid her mobile into her pocket once more and tightened her jacket around her. Their flat was a brisk walk away, only ten minutes and fully lit by the street lamps hanging over her head.

Hermione was halfway home when she heard it. The familiar sound of heavy footsteps behind her, each step quicker than the last. As nonchalantly as she could, Hermione turned her head to glance behind her. Through the curtain of her messy hair, she could see a figure. It wasn't Bellatrix; this was definitely a man. Her heart clenched at the sight of broad shoulders and the bar that was gripped in her hand.

She thought for a split second that she really should have told Tom her worries, and waited for him to pick her up from Borgin & Burkes. Hermione grabbed her mobile, worried it would fly out of her pocket if she ran. Gripping it tightly, Hermione cast a long look across the street before she stepped off the curb and ran headlong into traffic.

There was a loud shout behind her, and she waved an apology as a car braked right in front of her. On the corner, there was a twenty four hour convenience store that she rushed into, wrenching the door open. "I think someone was following me." she said breathlessly to the clerk. "Do you have a bathroom?"

The woman paused in filing her nails, her expression not at all convinced. She pointed to a corridor to the right of the counter. "Go on."

Hermione slammed the door shut behind her, locking it. She held her phone to her ear as she slid down the wall.

"Hello?" he snapped, and she heard his car door slamming.

"I have a stalker." she blurted, her fingers trembling as she covered her mouth. "I've thought so for the past two weeks, but I wanted to believe it was nothing —"

He growled on the other end of the line. "No fucking wonder she cornered me tonight. Where are you?"

She hiccuped. "I'm in the bathroom of that convenience store down the street. What are you talking about?"

There was the sound of his engine, and his car accelerating as his foot pressed to the pedal. "Bella. She struck up an argument outside of the university. It's clear that she was stalling. Did you get a look at who was following you?"

Hermione found herself nodding even though he couldn't see her. "Not enough to tell you who it was, but it was a man, a bit on the larger side. But...he was carrying a crow bar." she paused. "I'm not sure it was a crow bar, it could have been a pipe."

"I don't care what it was." Tom snarled. "Either way, he was going to beat the hell out of you. The semantics don't matter right now."

In a sound unliked her, Hermione whimpered. "Maybe he wanted to scare me instead? Though at this point, they've scared me enough and it hasn't worked."

He was probably pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes narrowed. It was exactly what she envisioned as he murmured, "Explain." And at her hesitation, he added, "Now, Hermione."

She shivered at his tone. Hermione knew beyond a shred of doubt that if Tom found whoever had followed her, he might kill them. "Do you remember a few weeks ago when I accused you of leaving a knife out?"

There was a sharp breath. "You told me you realized you had left it out."

"I'm not so sure about that." she whispered.

"Hermione, what were you fucking thinking?" he roared into the phone and she winced. "If you had the slightest doubt, you should have told me immediately."

"I know. I just —"

He cut her off angrily. "I'm in front of the shop. Would you like to walk out on your own, or would you like me to come in?"

She climbed to her feet. "I can come out on my own. Tom, I'm so—"

"We can talk about it face to face." He hung up without another word.

Hermione got her bearings, looking both ways as she left the bathroom. She worried the man would be standing off to the side, strategically placed by the exit so he could drag her outside. Hermione counted herself lucky that no one was there, or even in the shop beyond the clerk as she made her way to the car.

Tom locked the doors after she slid into the passenger seat. He didn't so much as look at her as he backed out of the parking lot.

She bit her bottom lip. "Tom,"

He shook his head, his fist coming down on the steering wheel. "Tell me something, are we in a relationship?"

She blinked. What kind of question was that? "Of course we are." Hermione murmured.

"Now I haven't had many relationships, but I was under the impression that being with someone meant secrets were wrong."

Her chest felt like it was caving in. "I didn't mean to lie to you."

"Bullshit." he replied, his voice tight. "I'm not sure if you've forgotten what she did to my flat, or how she's threatened either of us multiple times at this point,"

"I haven't forgotten!" she yelled. She balled her hands in her lap, clenching her jaw and her teeth gnashed together. "I admit that it was stupid to think I would worry you needlessly, and I regret it. Ginny told me to tell you and I didn't."

His eyes flashed. She could pick out the anger as it was a frequent emotion for him, but her mouth dried at the thinly veiled hurt. "It was probably Bella's husband. Rudolphus is of a bigger build, and he'd leap at the opportunity to hurt you if he believed it would please her."

"God," she muttered. "What did she have to say to you? Anything of importance?"

Tom leveled a stare at her before telling her, "I'm not so sure we've done enough to keep this a secret."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't take up your time by apologizing that I haven't updated and I won't lie and say I'll have an update in a week. I've been struggling with writing tomione because of reasons that aren't important to say.
> 
> The good news is that there is only one full chapter left and an epilogue left. I hope your feedback will help me drag my thoughts back to me and I will be able to wrap this up for those of you still following.


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